Withdrawal
by Laine3112
Summary: An undercover operation goes horribly wrong and leaves Tony's life in peril. Gibbs is forced to take drastic action to keep him alive. Crime fic with a central Gibbs and Tony, father/son theme. COMPLETE. PREQUEL TO NIGHT TIME - ALSO COMPLETE.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**A/N First chapter contains some necessary back story to get us "up to speed" so we can move on - hang in there with me! L**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter One**

"I don't care if you've searched that warehouse fifty times! We must have missed something! I want the warehouse and the surrounding area searched again! NOW!" Gibbs' face flushed with colour as he growled at his young agents.

Ziva and McGee didn't pause to acknowledge the team leader's demand as they hastily collected their gear and headed for the elevator. They had felt Gibbs' wrath often enough to know the difference between his furious and his worried tone. Although this was definitely his worried tone, the smallest hesitation could be enough to tip the scales.

Director Leon Vance stood on the landing above the bullpen quietly observing his lead agent as Gibbs resumed his seat at his desk and ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

The last six days had been tough on the entire team but none more so than Leroy Jethro Gibbs. It had been six days since his senior field agent, Anthony DiNozzo, last made contact and although he was on a deep undercover assignment, in Gibbs' mind, the silence meant one thing – Tony was in serious trouble.

As the new agency director, Vance was still getting to know the agents under his command but he was beginning to understand that, with DiNozzo, what you saw was definitely not what you got. The ex-detective could be a giant pain in the ass six days out of seven, but seven days out of seven he got the job done and the agency needed him. Truth be told, he still couldn't understand what it was about DiNozzo that prompted such a volatile reaction from the normally taciturn Gibbs.

He cast his mind back over the events leading up to this day:-

_-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-_

_The past eight months had seen a disturbing number of seemingly isolated but serious incidents involving Navy and Marine personnel and illegal narcotics. The increase in drug related activity had warranted separate investigations by NCIS' Washington, Florida and San Diego Field Offices._

_When the Hawaii Field Office and Agents Afloat on the USS Enterprise, Ronald Reagan and Chosin reported similar incidents, SecNav had demanded an investigation and Vance ordered his lead agent, Leroy Jethro Gibbs and the Major Case Response team attempt to find a link to all the reported cases. _

_The tox reports of the most serious drug related incidents were sent to Forensic Specialist Abby Sciuto for further analysis and results ascertained that the drug was a heroin-based substance mixed with a small amount of PCP. As suspected, the chemical compounds of all samples matched - confirming the drugs originated from one very sizable source._

_The widespread distribution of the narcotics through major Naval bases and ships underway was of major concern and the team turned their suspicion and their attention to the only common thread – the Naval Supply Corps._

_The investigation now had two main focuses – find and charge those responsible for the distribution of the drugs via the Naval Supply Corps and track down the source of the drugs._

_During the course of their investigation, Gibbs' team had received information alleging the involvement of Evan Grayson, the son of one of the most respected business entrepreneurs in the US. There had always been unsubstantiated whispers about the source of the funds that Thomas Grayson used to get his start in legitimate business. The FBI had investigated Grayson sometime ago but found no proof to corroborate the rumours. Gibbs' famous gut had no doubt that Grayson Senior was using his enormous wealth and considerable influence to import the drugs into the country and circumnavigate any customs issues. But having a gut feeling about it and proving it were two entirely different matters. _

_Director Vance knew that any claims made by his agency against Thomas Grayson, would need to be irrefutable. The man had twice been named US Entrepreneur of the Year and was known as much for his brilliant business acumen as for his well-publicised philanthropic activities. Thomas Grayson was a very public figure and very well connected in political circles._

_It was for this reason that Vance called for a consult with the NCIS Legal Team and a representative from the JAG office to discuss whether they had sufficient evidence to have the Graysons brought in for questioning. Commander Peter Barnes, leading JAG Prosecutor and, coincidentally, close friend of Tony DiNozzo's arrived at the office to discuss the situation and review the evidence. After two hours, of intense and at times highly volatile discussion, it had been decided that the majority of their evidence was circumstantial or hearsay._

_If they brought the Graysons in for questioning, without enough evidence to charge them, they would shut down their entire operation and NCIS may never have another opportunity to locate those responsible for distributing drugs throughout the major Naval bases. An undercover operation was required._

_The preferred option was to place an agent in the Naval Supply Corps to work side by side with the supply officers and report any irregularities or abnormalities. However, while NCIS had agents, like McGee, with a Masters in Computing Forensics and a BSc in Biomedical Engineering, today's Naval supply officers were schooled and experienced in a variety of disciplines such as supply management; inventory control; financial management; logistics, combat support; fuel management and food service and physical distribution. Without specialist training in those areas, an undercover agent would be spotted straight away and the operation would fail._

_If they were going to gather the evidence they required, someone needed to get deep inside the drug ring. Tony had been nominated to resurrect a cover used successfully on previous undercover assignments and infiltrate the organization._

_Just over six weeks ago Tony, as Gus Bricker, befriended Evan Grayson when he came to Grayson's aid in a staged bar fight. Grayson had invited Tony to join him for a drink and the two men had forged a "firm friendship."_

_Evan Grayson had been looking for a reliable 'second' to assist him oversee the importation and distribution of the narcotics. He researched Bricker's background, noting his dishonourable discharge from the Marines for substance abuse and various other illegal activities since. Bricker had the attributes he was looking for; street smart, handy with his fists, Marine trained and therefore well-versed in handling firearms and the man talked a good game. Apart from all that, he genuinely liked Gus and quickly came to trust him._

_Being deep undercover meant no wire and no surveillance but every Saturday night like clockwork, Tony would enjoy "happy hour" at a lively nightclub in Arlington. He would flirt outrageously with a very familiar, dark-eyed waitress with long dark hair and exotic middle-eastern beauty. When it couldn't be avoided, Evan Grayson accompanied him so he had to be particularly careful when passing any new intel to Ziva - and he always left her an overly generous tip, courtesy of the NCIS expense account._

_After eight weeks undercover, living in Gus Bricker's seedy apartment, driving Bricker's crappy car and the constant worry of his cover being blown, Tony looked thin and exhausted. He was frustrated that he still had nothing tangible to link Grayson Senior to the drug operation. The whole team would be glad when this assignment was over and Tony could return to the NCIS fold – particularly a silver-haired lead agent with icy blue eyes who had been moody, cantankerous and enormously difficult to work with during this whole operation. _

_Six days ago during "happy hour," Tony told Ziva of the large shipment of drugs expected to arrive at the docks that night at 2200. The high quality heroin had an estimated street value of seven million US dollars. He gave her the warehouse and the dock numbers, told her that Evan Grayson, his cousin Billy Matthews and he would be handling the delivery of the shipment…and he assured her that his cover was secure. _

_The drug bust on the warehouse had secured the large drug shipment and several local drug-dealers who had intended to purchase some of the illicit cargo - but Grayson was missing, his cousin Billy Matthews was missing…and Tony was missing._

_-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-o0o-_

Shaking himself from his musing Vance turned on his heel to return to his office only to find himself staring into a pair of icy blue eyes.

"Something I can do for you, Director?" Gibbs asked.

"Just checking to see whose voice was about to shatter the skylight, Gibbs," Vance answered calmly. "I take it there's no news on DiNozzo?"

"Nothing," Gibbs said. "I don't like this, Leon. DiNozzo's an experienced undercover operative. Something's wrong or he'd have contacted me."

"There could be any number of reasons why he hasn't made contact," Vance said. "If he thought his cover was blown he'd have gone to ground until things cooled down. If the Graysons know DiNozzo was responsible for that drug bust, they'll be hell-bent on finding him."

"All the more reason to kick down Thomas Grayson's door," Gibbs argued.

Vance's eyes narrowed in silent appraisal. He knew Gibbs was likely to resort to any means necessary to find DiNozzo but the last thing this agency needed was for its lead agent to be arrested and suspended for excessive force, wrongful arrest and a slew of other charges Thomas Grayson's high-priced attorney was likely to throw their way.

"I know how you feel but we've been over this a dozen times," Vance said, his voice remained calm but his dark eyes revealed his frustration. "If DiNozzo's cover is still intact and we go busting into Grayson Industries demanding our agent back, _we_ could be responsible for his death."

"If DiNozzo's cover was still intact, Director, he would have made contact by now," Gibbs insisted.

"No one has seen DiNozzo or Grayson's son Evan, for almost a week," Vance replied. "It's more than likely that they are together and DiNozzo's cover _is_ still intact. Maybe he just hasn't had the opportunity to make contact."

"Tony's as resourceful as they come," Gibbs said resolutely. "Hell, if he was captured by the Taliban, he could charm Bin Laden into borrowing his cell. He'd find a way to contact me."

Vance waved Gibbs into his office to continue their discussion.

"When DiNozzo last made contact with David, he assured her that his cover was secure," Vance recounted. "When the warehouse was raided later that night, Evan Grayson, DiNozzo and Grayson's nephew, Billy Matthews were all missing. I repeat, that doesn't mean DiNozzo's cover was blown."

Gibbs scrubbed his face with his hands. The inside of his eyes felt dry and gritty from lack of sleep.

"You don't know that."

"You think the Graysons learned about the bust?" Vance asked.

"Explains why they didn't show up. It was too late to stop the shipment arriving but not too late for the Graysons to avoid being arrested. Something happened between 1900, when Tony met with Ziva and the raid at 2215."

The shrill of his cell sounded and he answered with his usual, "Gibbs." As he listened to the call, Gibbs' usually impassive face paled.

"I'll be right there," he responded before flipping his cell closed and disconnecting the call.

"Gibbs?"

"That was McGee," he said already heading for the door. "Metro PD just pulled a body out of the river. Matches DiNozzo's description."

"Keep me informed," Vance called after him as Gibbs descended the stairs two at a time, collected his gear and called Ducky to meet him at the crime scene.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Gibbs brought the agency vehicle to an abrupt halt and strode purposefully to where Ziva and McGee were waiting near the pier. He flashed his badge to wave off the uniformed officer who approached him and ducked under the yellow and black tape cordoning off area. Taking a deep breath he headed directly for the body as Ziva and McGee moved quickly to intercept him.

"Gibbs."

He ignored Ziva's call, not veering from his course until she positioned herself directly in his path and placed both hands on his chest to halt his progress. Although his face was inscrutable, she could feel his heart beating rapidly and see the trepidation in his eyes as he looked towards the prone body. She spoke firmly and quietly.

"Gibbs, it is not Tony."

He closed his eyes briefly and allowed a moment's relief but when he opened his eyes it was business as usual.

"Report," he said.

"Metro PD received a call from a young couple taking a stroll on the pier, er.. Jeremy Davis and Rachel Young," McGee stated, reading from his notepad. "They noticed the body floating face down and called 911 immediately. I've taken their statements, Boss. They didn't see or hear anything else. Only had eyes for each other if you know what I mean. They're pretty shaken up, I was gonna let them go home."

Gibbs nodded and turned to Ziva. "Has the body been identified?"

"Yes. Officer Doherty, over there, found a wallet belonging to Chief Warrant Officer Louis Farrell, the photo on the licence and a Norfolk photo ID match the body," Ziva responded looking at a wallet in an evidence bag. "There is nearly two hundred dollars inside, this was not a robbery."

"I do hope that flatfoot didn't disturb my crime scene!" Ducky's rich British accent resonated across the pier as he arrived with his assistant Jimmy Palmer in tow.

"You mean…aside from getting him out of the water, don't you, Doctor?" Jimmy asked.

"Mr Palmer, one would hardly be expected to swim out to examine the body," Ducky replied not hiding his exasperation.

"Not even with a name like Ducky?" Jimmy said, chuckling softly at his own joke until he noticed no one else was laughing and he'd become the centre of attention for several unamused looks. "I'll.. er…get the gurney," he said, feeling the colour rush to his cheeks.

"I am sorry, Ducky," Ziva replied holding the evidence bag aloft. "Officer Doherty removed this from the body. It is what Tony would call a wookiee mistake."

"R_ookie_, Ziva, not wookiee," McGee corrected. "A wookiee is a large furry alien from the Star Wars universe. They're really loyal and friendly but they can be extremely dangerous when provoked…"

McGee's head lurched forward suddenly from the force of a Gibbs head slap.

"They're not the only ones dangerous when provoked!" Gibbs growled.

"Of course, sorry Boss," McGee mumbled, reaching his hand around to rub the back of his head.

"Yes, well, even a rookie knows that no one touches the body until cleared to do so by the medical examiner," Ducky growled. "I hope you chastised him vehemently!"

"We did, Ducky," McGee said. "He'll know for next time."

"I'll do more than chastise you vehemently if you don't finish your report, McGee," Gibbs threatened.

"Oh, sorry Boss," McGee blushed. "We secured the perimeter, took measurements & sketched the crime scene area. Photos have been completed and we searched the pier. There doesn't appear to be any evidence to suggest that he was killed here. Could have been killed up river and floated here with the current."

"Find out," Gibbs replied curtly.

Ducky knelt by the body to begin his examination.

"Well, my dear fellow, let's take a look at you and see what you can tell us about your untimely demise," he said.

"Time of death possible, Duck?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh come now Jethro, you've seen enough corpses dragged from the river to know that it's very difficult to determine time of death at a glance," Ducky scolded mildly. "A dead human body in the water starts to sink as soon as the air in its lungs is replaced with water. Once submerged, the body stays underwater until the bacteria in the gut and chest cavity produce enough gas - methane, hydrogen sulphide, and carbon dioxide - to float it to the surface like a balloon. This can take days or weeks, depending on a number of factors."

"What about cause of death?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, I would draw your attention to the defensive bruises on his upper arms and wrists; it appears the poor fellow was restrained. I can't be more accurate until we get him back home, I'm afraid, but he'll tell me what happened, won't you, my good man?"

"I need whatever you can give me ASAP. It's no coincidence that this sailor was murdered less than half a mile from where our drug bust took place," Gibbs told the ME. "Whatever you find may lead to us to Tony."

"Of course, Jethro, I will return to head quarters and perform the autopsy with all due haste," Ducky replied as he and Jimmy quickened their pace, placed the body in a body bag and wheeled the gurney back towards the Coroner's van for the trip back to the Navy yard.

Gibbs stood stock still looking out over the water.

'_Where the hell are you, Tony?_'

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

A/N:- JAG Officer, Commander Peter Barnes, is a recurring character created for my story What Lies Beneath. That story deals with the brutal murder of his young daughter Becky and Tony's overwhelming desire for vengeance, L


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Two**

Gibbs, McGee and Ziva arrived back in the bullpen and walked directly to their desks.

"McGee!" Gibbs said crisply.

"Check for any hits on our BOLO's on Evan Grayson and Billy Matthews and check the hospitals for any John Doe's fitting Tony's description. I'm on it, Boss," McGee replied.

"Ziva!"

"Run a background check on Chief Warrant Officer Farrell," she responded without hesitation.

"Let me know if you get anything," Gibbs added before heading for the elevator.

"Um…Boss," McGee started tentatively and developed a sudden fascination with the floor. "I was just…I was wondering if we should've put divers in the water at the pier?"

Gibbs looked from McGee to Ziva, hearing the words they refused to put voice to.

"He's not there," he said definitively. "I'll be with Ducky."

The agents exchanged a glance and managed a small smile. They knew Gibbs had no logical way of knowing that Tony's body was not in the water at the pier but they were both strangely reassured to hear him speak the words.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

True to their word, Ducky and Jimmy had made good time transporting the body to the morgue and beginning the autopsy. They were just finishing the preliminary procedures as Gibbs entered through the sliding glass doors.

"Get those samples up to Abigail, Mr Palmer, there's a good lad," Ducky said, giving his young assistant an encouraging pat on the back.

"Yes, Doctor," Jimmy answered softly. "Oh…and Doctor Mallard…thank you for…you know."

"You're most welcome, my boy. Now, I believe Abigail is waiting for those samples."

Jimmy nodded his head to Gibbs in silent greeting as he left for Abby's lab.

"What's with Palmer?" Gibbs asked.

"Do you really have to ask, Jethro?" Ducky said with mild irritation evident in his voice. "Jimmy Palmer, like the rest of us, is worried sick about Anthony. He has become very fond of our Tony - although, it has to be said, they are quite unlikely chums."

Gibbs watched as the elderly ME removed his gloves and made a quick notation on the autopsy chart in his hands.

"One has to wonder what they find to talk about," he mused. "Anthony was an elite college athlete who excelled in all sports. Mr Palmer _accidentally_ set a high school record in the 100 yard dash by outpacing the football jocks who were trying to give him… something called a wedgie!" Ducky chuckled. "And while Anthony had his pick of any college fraternity, young Mr Palmer was _picked on_ by _every_ college fraternity. Yes, it's a very odd friendship indeed."

"Duck, you have something?" Gibbs asked before Ducky's pondering started again.

"As I matter of fact I do," Ducky replied. "As we suspected, Chief Warrant Officer Farrell's death was deliberate. The bruising on his wrists and upper arms is consistent with someone restraining him from behind, like so." Ducky walked behind Gibbs to demonstrate.

"Was he conscious when he hit the water?"

"Yes, yes he was. It wasn't the assault that killed him, well, not directly anyway."

Ducky retrieved a magnifying glass from a nearby drawer and returned to the autopsy table. He reached for Farrell's arm and held the magnifying glass over his inner right elbow.

"Tell me, Jethro, what do you see?"

"A needle mark," Gibbs replied.

"And rather forcefully inserted by the looks of the puncture wound," Ducky continued. "His service record confirms that CWO Farrell was right-handed, yet the angle of the wound suggests it was inserted by a right-handed person. It would have been impossible for him to inject himself using his right hand. We sent blood samples to Abigail earlier and Mr Palmer has just taken the tissue samples for analysis."

"Time of death?" Gibbs asked.

Ducky's expression was grim as he looked his friend in the eye.

"Near as I can tell, he's been dead for 5-6 days. The same amount of time our Anthony has been missing."

"Thanks, Duck," Gibbs said quietly, he was almost through the sliding doors when the ME called reassuringly.

"You'll find him, Jethro."

As Gibbs exited and the doors slid closed again, Ducky added quietly. "Find him quickly."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Caff-Pow in hand, Gibbs entered Abby's lab, still unnerved by the disconcerting quiet that had engulfed the lab since Tony's disappearance. Looking around quickly, he saw no sign of the forensic specialist and walked towards the inner offices. He stopped short, seeing Abby and Palmer sharing a warm embrace. They obviously had not heard him approach.

"_Palmer, what the hell are you doing?_" he growled as Jimmy reeled backwards, eyes wide and blood quickly draining from his face.

"Agent Gibbs…I was…that is …Abby was…and I…" Jimmy stuttered nervously.

"First Agent Lee and now Abby," Gibbs continued. "You planning on working your way through the entire female staff, Palmer? 'Cause let me tell you, it's been tried before, it's not a good idea and when DiNozzo gets back you can ask him why!"

"Yes Sir…I mean…no sir… Agent Gibbs…Abby was crying and I just…I think I'd better go, Doctor Mallard will be wondering who I'm doing…er…I mean... what I'm doing," Jimmy ran towards the door desperate to put some distance between the lead agent and himself.

"You'd better run!" Gibbs yelled after him before turning back to Abby with a satisfied grin.

Abby placed her fisted hands on her hips and looked at Gibbs disapprovingly.

"You enjoyed that, didn't you?" she scolded.

"Yep," he replied honestly as he watched her dry her eyes. "You okay, Abs?"

"I miss him, Gibbs. I want him back, we have to find him!" Her bottom lip quivered and her resolve faltered again when he took her in his arms to comfort her.

"We'll find him," he said quietly, kissing the top of her head. He felt her take a long shuddering breath as she pulled back a little to look him directly in the eyes.

"Promise me you'll bring him home," she said solemnly.

"I'll bring him home," he said sincerely. "Whatcha got for me?"

She blew her nose on a black handkerchief adorned with little white skulls then she moved to her Gas Chronometer.

"I'm still waiting for the results that will tell me the exact break down of the chemical compounds of the drugs, however, I have preliminary results on the blood sample from Warrant Officer Farrell. The injection contained Diacetylmorphine with traces of Phencyclidine."

"Heroin with traces of PCP."

"Correct, oh wise and wonderful one!" Abby exclaimed. "I'm testing to see if this drug matches the sample from Saturday's drug bust but I won't know for certain until my Gas Chronometer does its thing."

"Let me know," he said and turned to leave.

"Wait Gibbs," Abby called. "Jimmy said there were no other signs that the Warrant Officer was using heroin. If he was working with the Graysons and distributing the drugs, why would they kill him?"

"That's what we're gonna find out, Abs."

He started to leave the lab when Abby called after him again.

"Gibbs?" Her voice was barely audible and her eyes glistened as she gave him a watery smile. "Remember your promise, please bring him home."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Stepping into the elevator, Gibbs pressed the button to take him back to the bullpen. As the car started its ascent he flicked the power switch, bringing it to a jolting stop. He leaned against the wall and pressed the heels of his hands firmly against his tired eyes, his gut twisting painfully as he thought of his missing agent. Blinking away the profitless speculation, he pushed the worry to the recesses of his mind and took three or four deep cleansing breaths. Satisfied his composure was back in place, he flicked the power switch again and rejoined the search for Tony.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

"What have you got McGee?" Gibbs asked striding back into the bullpen and noticing the small box of Chinese food and the still steaming cup of coffee on his desk.

"No hits yet on Evan Grayson or Billy Matthews, Boss. The agents we've had posted outside their homes since the drug bust report that neither one has been home," McGee replied. "The agent watching Tony's or rather Gus Bricker's apartment said that no-one's been near the place. Abby's been calling at Tony's real apartment every other day to feed his fish and collect his mail. He hasn't been back there either."

"Hospitals?" Gibbs asked around a huge mouthful of Chicken Chow Mien.

"No John Doe's fitting Tony's description have been treated or admitted." McGee refrained from telling Gibbs that he had also checked the morgues.

Having wolfed down the Chow Mien and awakened his appetite, Gibbs rose to his feet in search of more food and deftly swiped the box of Mongolian Lamb that McGee had been enjoying. The younger agent gave a resigned sigh. He had spent the last five years working alongside Tony's voracious appetite and had become accustomed to his meals disappearing. He opened the bottom drawer of his desk to reveal his private stash of Nutter Butters, an apple, two muesli bars and a Twinkie.

"Ziva!" Gibbs said.

Ziva typed a command into her keyboard and the large plasma screen lit up with a photo of Chief Warrant Officer Farrell.

"CWO Louis Edward Farrell, aged 34. Born in Houston Texas and currently assigned to the Naval Supply Corp, Norfolk Naval Base. Never married, lives alone in an off base apartment. Both parents are dead. He has a sister living just outside San Diego."

"She been informed of his death?"

"Director Vance has arranged for a Navy chaplain and an agent from the San Diego office to inform Farrell's sister of his death. I will then speak with her via telephone," Ziva reported. "According to his service record, Farrell was on two weeks leave, which may explain why no-one reported him missing."

"Boss?" McGee said. "I was just checking for any recent or unusual activity on Farrell's bank account."

"And?"

"The balance of his checking account usually averages around five thousand dollars. But during the last three months, there have been six deposits of five thousand dollars each. How does a guy on a W2 pay grade earn that kind of money?"

"Illegally," Gibbs replied. "Can you trace the source?"

"I can try, Boss, but as the systems protocol appears to be encrypted and the…."

McGee stifled whatever protest he might have made when Gibbs shot him a quelling glance. "I'll trace it, Boss, but…it's gonna take some time."

"Damn it, McGee! DiNozzo may not have time!" Gibbs snapped.

"I know that, Boss," McGee said quietly, his eyes never wavering from Gibbs' intimidating glare. "I'll do my best."

Gibbs winced internally at the slightly panicked sound of his own voice. He desperately needed something to tie Thomas Grayson to the importation and distribution of the heroin. Only then would he be able to kick Grayson's door down and demand the whereabouts of his agent.

"Gibbs?"

The soft voice immediately caught his attention and he looked up from his desk to find Abby watching him with tear-filled eyes. Ducky stood beside her and placed a comforting arm around her shoulders. Gibbs knew she had heard the fear in his voice and he cursed himself for the momentary lapse of self-discipline that had frightened her. When he spoke again his voice was calm and composed.

"Got something, Abs?"

"I got the preliminary results from the chemical analysis. The heroin used to kill CWO Farrell, is an 93% match with the sample you took from the drug bust last Saturday, which means…"

"Farrell's murder is definitely connected to the drug operation and Tony," Gibbs stated and turned to McGee. "If that money traces back to Grayson, we've got enough to break down his door."

"I'm on it, Boss," McGee said with renewed vigour.

"Something else, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"Well, um, not really. I was just on my way over to Tony's apartment to water his plants and collect his mail. I thought that maybe I would bring Tony's fish, Zeus and Apollo, back to my lab."

"Zeus and Apollo!" Ducky exclaimed excitedly. "Oh my word, I had no idea that young Anthony was a student of Greek mythology! I have several books on that very subject that I'm sure he'd find fascinating!"

"Err…Ducky?" McGee said. "Zeus and Apollo are the names of the Dobermans on Magnum PI. It's one of Tony's favourite shows."

"Oh I see," Ducky replied looking completely crestfallen while Gibbs suppressed a rare grin.

"Anyway," Abby continued. "I thought that Zeus and Apollo must be _totally_ missing Tony and I'm, like, totally missing Tony too, so I thought I would bring them back here so we could miss him together until he comes home."

"You okay to go on your own?" Gibbs replied.

"I'm fine," she said. "I need you all here. I need you to find Tony."

He leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

"Working on it."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

The shrill of Gibbs' cell phone pierced the silence of the bullpen and he checked the caller ID before answering with a terse, "I'll be right there."

Rising from his seat he rounded his desk and pushed the button to call the elevator. The doors opened and Gibbs entered, barely acknowledging the man already inside. As the elevator started to descend, Gibbs flicked the power switch off and turned to face the other occupant.

"Thanks for coming, Tobias."

"No problem. Would have been here earlier but my own assignment just wrapped up," Fornell replied, passing one of two steaming Styrofoam cups to Gibbs and taking a long draught from the other.

"Still no word on DiNozzo?" he asked, utilising the correct Italian pronunciation of Tony's surname.

Gibbs shook his head.

"What do you need?" Fornell asked.

"I need whatever the FBI has on the Grayson family," Gibbs stated.

"The Bureau's investigation of Grayson was a long time ago, Jethro, you're testing my memory."

"The day you can't remember a case is the day you're too old for the job, Tobias," Gibbs goaded.

Fornell didn't answer immediately and for a moment, Gibbs thought that his FBI counterpart really had forgotten. He watched carefully as Fornell leaned against the elevator wall and exhaled deeply.

"There's not much you don't already have. Ten years ago the Bureau was approached by two very reliable sources that were prepared to testify that Thomas Grayson started his legitimate business ventures with money from illegal activities. Grayson and his then business partner, Jonathon Bailey, were allegedly into arms dealing, prostitution and drug importation - Grayson was the brains and Bailey the muscle. The talk was they took on all comers, often resorting to beatings, extortion, even murder - of course none of this could be proven."

"What happened to Bailey?"

"Depends on who you ask. Officially, he drowned in a boating accident on the Potomac and his body was never recovered."

"Unofficially?"

"The talk was that Bailey topped a guy with connections to some pretty heavy hitters. His death was in retaliation. With Bailey out of the picture, Grayson went legit. He had accumulated enough wealth to purchase various badly managed companies and he used his business acumen to turn them into the billion-dollar empire he has today." Fornell took another long sip of coffee. "I gotta tell you Jethro, the man's every bit as smart as they say he is and he covers his tracks. We scoured every bit of paperwork we could find and never got a single lead."

"What about the son?" Gibbs asked.

"Evan Grayson lacks his father's shrewd business mind, preferring to spend rather than make money. He attended the best private schools and despite marginal passing grades, was accepted into an ivy-league college." Fornell stated.

"The best education money could buy," Gibbs remarked cynically.

"Marvellous what can happen when Dad donates a new library," Fornell agreed.

"The kid joined the Army after college, supposedly to step out of Daddy's shadow by choosing a military career, but 3 years into his 6 year hitch he was medically discharged – hepatitis, I think. After his release from the Army and a short time recovering in Europe, Evan was inserted as CEO of various smaller companies owned by Grayson Industries. All mysteriously suffered large financial losses and had to be bailed out of possible bankruptcy by Grayson Senior."

"You think the old man got sick of bailing the kid out and financed him into his own heroin importation business?" Gibbs asked.

"That'd be my guess. What worked for the father, just may work for the son."

"What happened to the reliable sources and the investigation?"

"Investigation was going nowhere and we were told there were manpower issues so the case was closed. One of our sources, Henry Bedford, was a junior accountant at Grayson Industries. He was killed in a hit and run incident a month later. There were no witnesses. "

"And the other?"

"The other was Nick Hollister, a former right hand man of Thomas Grayson. He moved his family to California and kept a low profile but he was found murdered six months after the case was closed. In both cases the killer was never found."

"What do you think?"

Fornell gave a wry grin. "I think the old man got sick of the Bureau sniffing around. He pulled some strings, called in a few favours and got us the hell off his ass! Then he made examples of those who tried to cross him." His expression grew serious as he added. "Jethro, if Grayson found out that DiNozzo betrayed him…you may not get him back this time."

"I'll get him back," Gibbs affirmed.

Gibbs flicked the power switch again and the elevator travelled to the lobby and as Fornell was about to exit he turned to Gibbs with a quizzical look.

"Did I pass your memory test?"

"Nope," Gibbs answered definitively.

As the elevator doors closed, Gibbs looked at Fornell's stunned face.

"What did I forget?" the FBI agent asked.

"I don't take sugar in my coffee."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

McGee looked up from his computer as Gibbs walked back into the bullpen.

"Boss?"

He motioned for Gibbs to watch the plasma screen as a map of the river appeared.

"I have a contact at the US Coast Guard office in Portsmouth who provided me with tidal information for the last week. Based on the information he gave me and where CWO Farrell's body was found, we calculated that Farrell entered the water…here."

McGee highlighted the position on the screen.

"That is the location of the warehouse where the drug bust took place, yes?" Ziva asked.

"Yes it is," Gibbs confirmed.

"I have been reviewing Farrell's service record. He appeared to be a model sailor. Good performance reports from his superiors, well-liked, hard-working, no disciplinary record. Also, he was randomly tested for drugs just two weeks ago. The test was negative, he was not using." Ziva stated.

"Still may have been distributing," McGee suggested.

Ziva's body visibly tensed as she continued reading.

"Wait, this might be something…" she said.

"You got something?" Gibbs prompted.

"Although there is no record of Farrell being involved in any illegal activity, he was questioned by NCIS as a witness in relation to the death of a sailor who fell from the deck of an aircraft carrier at Norfolk several years ago," Ziva replied.

"I remember that case. The sailor actually jumped to his death and Ducky ruled it a suicide. You were in Mexico at the time, Boss," McGee said.

"Who interviewed Farrell?" Gibbs' gut twisted painfully and he knew the answer even before he'd asked the question. "

Ziva read silently for a moment before whispering an exclamation in Hebrew.

Her face paled as she answered.

"Tony."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Three**

With SecNav breathing down his neck for a fast resolution, Vance entered the bullpen for a status update. As they reported their findings and discussed possible leads and scenarios, the director saw the strain of not knowing the fate of their team mate was taking its toll on all of them.

"Even if Farrell recognised Tony and blew his cover, why would they murder Farrell?" McGee asked.

"So there are no loose ends when they murder Tony," Ziva replied grimly.

"Oh God," McGee whispered.

"We need to move on Thomas Grayson now," Gibbs growled, barely containing his fury.

"We still have nothing to tie him into this mess and if we move too early he'll close up shop and move on," Vance said.

"We move too late and DiNozzo could die," Gibbs counted.

"We need to find his son or his nephew and we need to trace those payments in Farrell's account back to Grayson. Without that, we can't touch him."

Gibbs opened his mouth to object further when an MTAC Control Officer stepped quickly around the partition.

"Excuse me Director, Agent Gibbs," he said. "I thought you should know right away. We've just received a signal from Agent DiNozzo's apartment, someone has tripped the silent alarm."

"Abby?" Ziva asked.

Gibbs immediately dialled her number on his cell and placed the call on speaker.

"Abby knows Tony's alarm code," McGee said looking at his watch. "But she should be there by now."

"Abby," Gibbs said anxiously.

"Gibbs!" she whispered. "It's totally spooky how do you do that, I was just gonna call you."

"Abby. Where are you?"

"That's what I have to tell you, Gibbs," she continued in a hushed voice. "I was on my way to Tony's when I remembered that he was almost out of fish food. So I stopped to get some – did you know there are at least 100 varieties of fish food on the market? I guess it makes sense 'cause, like, there are a gazillion species of fish…"

"Abby, listen to me," Gibbs growled in frustration. "Are you at Tony's apartment?"

"Yes, that's what I'm trying to tell you Gibbs, someone just went into Tony's apartment," she replied. "I can hear him going through Tony's things."

Vance nodded his head towards the elevator, silently telling the team to move out, although he was fully aware that they would have done so with or without his permission. Gibbs kept Abby on the phone as they hurried to the elevator.

"Abby, we're on our way. Do not, repeat, do not approach this man," he stressed.

"Gibbs…I think I can take him."

"What?"

"I saw him, Gibbs. He's slightly built, kinda puny really and I've been working out with Ziva…I'm much stronger than I look…and I have my knuckle dusters and my mace in my purse."

"Slim build and puny…could be Billy Matthews, yes?" Ziva asked.

"If Matthews is at Tony's real apartment, then there's no doubt his cover has been blown," McGee replied.

They reached the sedan and Gibbs opened the driver's side door as Ziva climbed into the back seat and McGee rode shotgun.

"Abby, the man may be armed. You are _not_ an agent. Do not approach him. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, Gibbs," Abby said sounding decidedly disappointed. "But what if he leaves before you get here?"

The agents looked at each other. Matthews could lead them to Tony and they couldn't afford to lose him.

"Abby, are you safe?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes," she whispered. "I'm hiding in the trash chute vestibule down the hall from Tony's apartment…I gotta tell ya Gibbs…it's disgusting in here…Tony really needs to bring this to the attention of the building supervisor. There are all kinds of health and fire regulations being broken in here...uh oh… Gibbs, he's coming out and he's got a box of Tony's stuff. I've gotta go."

The call disconnected.

"Get her back!" Gibbs yelled, tossing the cell to McGee as he steered the car into a sharp left turn.

"She's not picking up," McGee said.

"Keep trying," Gibbs growled. "Damn it Abby, what the hell are you doing?"

McGee was imagining all kinds of horrible scenarios when, finally, after the twelfth attempt, Abby answered her cell and the agents breathed a collective sigh of relief.

"Abby, where are you?" Gibbs snapped.

"I'm okay, Gibbs," Abby said breathlessly. "He left Tony's… apartment and took the elevator… to the garage, so I locked…Tony's front door and took… the stairs. I really think…I need to do…more cardiovascular…exercise."

"Maybe you just need to cut down your Caff-Pow intake Abs," McGee suggested. "Some people say that too much caffeine can detract from a person's fitness levels, not to mention making them irritable, cantankerous, impatient and even violent."

His head lurched forward as Gibbs delivered a quick head slap. Cringing and wishing he could retract his last statement, McGee stuttered nervously.

"Some people say that but not me, Boss, I would never say that."

"Abby, we're still five minutes from your location," Gibbs said. "I need you to try to follow this guy in your car. Stay on the phone and lead us in. Think you can do that?"

"That's a big 10-4 Papa Bear, I'm eyeballing Matthews' grey Ford Explorer registration number Alpha, Quebec, Tango, three, niner, five. We're doing the double nickel eastbound towards the big slab. Bring it back!

Gibbs' looked stunned.

"What?"

"Um Boss, she said that she has Matthews' grey Ford Explorer registration number AQT 395 in sight and they're doing 55 and heading east towards the interstate," McGee translated. "I...er… bought Abby a CB radio last month for her birthday. I...er...think she may have got a little carried away with the terminology."

"Ya think?" Gibbs replied. "Ziva?"

"Calling the DC Highway Patrol for back up," she replied reaching for her cell.

"Abby, are you directly behind Matthews?" Gibbs asked thinking of Abby's bright red 1931 Model A Ford Coupe.

"10-4, Papa Bear."

"She said yes, Boss," McGee said.

"Yeah, McGee…I got that," Gibbs said, scowling at the younger man. "Pull back a bit. With that bright red car of yours, you may as well be tailing him in a fire truck."

"Copy that, Papa Bear. I'm backing off the hammer."

"She understands and she's slowing down and dropping back," McGee translated as Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Papa Bear, you still got your ears on?" Abby asked.

Before McGee could translate Gibbs slapped his hand over the younger man's mouth and glowered dangerously at him.

"Still here Abs, what's happening?"

"We've just peeled on to the big slab, northbound and hell bent for leather. Bring it back."

"Do you think you can stay with him Abs?"

"I got one foot on the floor, one hanging out the door, and she just won't do no more, Papa Bear. Come back."

Gibbs looked confused and turned to McGee.

"What?"

"Er…she said she's driving as fast as she can," McGee replied.

"We're coming up on your six," Gibbs told her as he spotted her car in the distance. "Keep your eyes on him but don't take any chances."

"I can see the eye balls of your plain wrapper, Papa Bear, hammering down the monster lane. You're about to blow my doors off. Bring it back."

"Abby can see the head lights of our unmarked car approaching quickly in the fast lane and we're about to pass her. There she is," McGee said.

"We've got it from here, Abs," Gibbs said. "Do not approach until I tell you it's safe."

"That's a big 10-4, Papa Bear. Eighty-eights and I'm down and gone."

"Gibbs, the DC Highway Patrol have two vehicles approaching our position from the rear – no sirens," Ziva advised.

Gibbs waited for the Highway Patrol vehicles to arrive before he brought their sedan alongside Matthews' SUV. With Tony's life at stake, he couldn't afford for Matthews to panic and make a run for it. Ziva smiled flirtatiously and gave Matthews a little wave. After gaining his undivided attention, she flashed her badge and revealed her gun, aiming it directly at Matthews' head.

The voice of a Highway Patrol Officer sounded from the loud speaker of the patrol car ordering Matthews to pull his vehicle to the side of the road and turn the ignition off. Surrounded by two police vehicles and the unmarked NCIS sedan, Matthews had little choice but to comply.

Cautiously approaching the SUV, their guns drawn, Ziva, McGee and Gibbs covered Matthews from different angles until they could ascertain that he was unarmed. Gibbs dragged him from his seat and threw him violently against the hood of the car.

"Where's my agent?" Gibbs hissed in his ear.

When Matthews remained silent, Gibbs repeated the question, his voice low and threatening.

"I said, where is my agent?"

"It wasn't me…I didn't hurt him, I liked him," Matthews said and Gibbs' blood ran cold at the use of the past tense.

"He's dead?" Gibbs demanded.

"No, no...I don't know. The last time I saw him he was hurting real bad but he was alive."

"Where is he?" Gibbs yelled furiously.

Matthews gave them the address of an abandoned tenement building in Fairfax where he had seen Tony less than two hours before. Gibbs instructed the Highway Patrol to take him to NCIS headquarters as Ziva called Ducky and the EMT's, gave them the address and asked them to meet them at the tenement building. Then with a quick kiss on the cheek and an "Attagirl Abs," Gibbs sent Abby back to work with a promise to call her the minute he had any news on Tony.

**-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

The trip across town was silent, with the exception of the occasional muttered curse escaping Gibbs' lips as a careless or slow driver slowed his urgent passage. The agents were silently hoping for the best, yet fearing the worst and were desperate to get to their partner.

With a screech of brakes and the acrid smell of burning rubber, Gibbs brought the sedan to a rapid halt outside the abandoned building. They quickly slipped into their bullet proofed vests and NCIS jackets; checked their weapons; their spare clips and secured their com-links and earwigs.

Ziva and McGee took opposite sides and immediately headed to the rear of the building, while Gibbs fought every natural impulse and waited until the building was properly assessed. He wouldn't risk the life of another agent. McGee and Ziva returned to report that the rear door and all windows on the ground floor were boarded up tightly, leaving the front door as the only way in or out.

It was approaching dusk and they would soon lose the light. The agents noted Ducky and EMT's had arrived and were parked at a safe distance half way down the block until the building had been cleared of danger.

They entered the large lobby area of the building, covering each other and moving quietly and cautiously. A shot rang out from the stairwell the bullet impacted into the plasterboard wall and narrowly missed McGee's head. Gibbs returned fire immediately, hitting the gunman high in the chest with three quick rounds. The gunman was dead before he hit the ground. A second man appeared from an adjoining room and was swiftly and fatally accounted for by Ziva.

A quick but thorough scan of the ground floor rooms and basement, revealed no sign of Tony or anyone else. As the light was fading, Gibbs sent McGee back to the sedan to get the flashlights while he and Ziva ascended the staircase to search the second floor.

Gibbs moved to search the rooms to the left and Ziva to the right. The sound of scurrying rats and the putrid smell permeating from the last room on the right filled Ziva with dread. She entered the dim room, Sig Sauer ever ready, and waited impatiently for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. She was almost overwhelmed by the pungent odour of sweat, vomit and excrement but the room appeared empty except for two wooden chairs. Turning to her left her heart froze as she recognised the battered and bruised face of her partner lying prostrate and seemingly lifeless on a stained and filthy mattress.

"Oh God, Tony," she whispered.

She spoke quickly and succinctly into her com-link.

"Gibbs, last room on the right. I have found Tony."

She had barely enough time to kneel beside Tony's unmoving form before she heard Gibbs' thunderous footfalls behind her. He almost shouldered her aside in his haste to get to his injured agent. He reached for Tony's carotid and was overwhelmingly grateful for the faint but very slow throbbing beneath his fingers that announced that Tony was alive.

Ziva removed her knife from its sheath and severed the ropes that bound and cruelly cut into the skin on Tony's wrists and feet.

McGee returned with the flashlights, gagging at the putrid smell and staring at the battered face and body of his partner.

"Ducky's on his way in. Boss…is he…"

"He's alive," Gibbs told him. He gently tapped his fingers against Tony's face, trying to rouse him.

"Tony? Open your eyes. Tony?"

They watched as Tony's brow furrowed and soft irritated moans emitted from his throat.

"That's it...come on, open your eyes," Gibbs instructed gently.

He began to stir, murmuring softly and incoherently. After several failed attempts, his eyes opened a crack. His mouth opened and closed wordlessly and he showed no signs of recognition before his eyelids slid shut again.

"Hey! Stay with me, Tony...you hear me, DiNozzo?"

Gibbs's famous gut was doing flips and telling him that something other than the obvious beating was causing Tony's disorientation and loss of consciousness.

"Oh my word," Ducky exclaimed as he and Palmer entered the room. "Let's take a look at you, dear boy."

The elderly ME immediately set his medical bag down and knelt by Tony's side.

"Did he regain consciousness?" Ducky asked.

"Opened his eyes for a minute, then passed out again," Gibbs replied steadying Tony's lolling head while Ducky examined him with soft, probing hands.

"Apart from the nasty bruising to his face and a few small contusions, there's no obvious sign of serious trauma to the skull," Ducky said.

Reaching for his penlight, he gently prised Tony's eyelids open, first one then the other, and noted that his pupils were the size of pinpoints. Gibbs noted the sudden tenseness in the doctor's demeanour.

"Duck?" he said, barely suppressing his panic.

Ducky reached for Tony's wrists, quickly shoving the sleeves of his shirt further up his arms. The horrified gasps of his teammates were audible as they saw the red and infected needle track marks located in the crook of both of Tony's elbows.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**A/N:- **This chapter contains medical terminology and procedures concerning the treatment and side effects of drug abuse. I have no medical training and am blessed that the devastating effects of drug addiction has not touched my family or friends. I did research quite a bit in an attempt to make the story as real as possible, however if there are any inconsistencies or irregularities, I hope you will overlook them for the sake of the story. L

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Four**

"I need light!" Ducky demanded. "Get some light in here now!"

The agents were startled into action by the uncharacteristically sharp tone of his voice.

"There's no power in the building," McGee said. "We only have flashlights."

Looking around, Gibbs noticed that the windows had been blackened and boarded up from the outside.

"Stand back," he said before swinging one of the wooden chairs in an arc and smashing the glass. "McGee, give me a hand."

As the agents hurried to prise the boards from the window, flooding the room with the remaining light of the day, Ducky and Palmer kneeled either side of Tony.

"Pulse is weak and slowing, Doctor," Palmer said anxiously.

Ducky placed his open palm on Tony's chest to gauge any movement and leaned in to place his ear close to Tony's nose and mouth.

"No breath sounds. He's in respiratory failure," he said with professional brevity. "Where are the EMT's, we need Narcan and oxygen - stat!"

Positioning Tony's head and neck to open his airway, Palmer began mouth to mouth as the EMT's arrived.

"Narcan, 2mgs, now!" Ducky ordered.

The EMT's quickly prepared the syringe and handed it to Ducky.

"Do we know what he was using?" one asked.

"He's an undercover federal agent," Gibbs hissed through tightly clenched teeth. "He wasn't _using _anything."

"Someone did this to him," Ziva explained to the EMT's. "We believe they gave him heroin."

"It's alright, Anthony," Ducky said gently to the unconscious agent. "Once I find a vein that isn't already blown, we should have you back with us in just a minute."

Ducky found a suitable site and injected the Narcan into Tony's arm.

"Jethro, I'll need you and Timothy to hold his legs and Ziva, try to keep his head and neck steady. Mr Palmer and I will secure his shoulders. He may come up fighting and I don't want him moving around until I have checked him for other injuries."

As Gibbs and McGee moved into position, Palmer ceased the mouth to mouth, waiting for the Narcan to take effect. When there was no response after sixty seconds Ducky reached for Tony's carotid.

"His pulse is a little stronger but he's still not breathing. Let's get him on oxygen and prepare another 2mgs of Narcan."

Palmer took the oxygen mask from the EMT and placed it over Tony's nose and mouth. With a new syringe in one hand, Ducky gently cupped Tony's face with his other.

"Now you listen to me, young man, I know you can do better than that," he said firmly. "Let's try this again, shall we?"

Ducky injected the second dose and they waited anxiously for a reaction.

"Come on, DiNozzo," Gibbs urged. "_Breathe_!."

Another 15 seconds passed agonisingly slowly before the silence in the room was fractured by Tony's huge gasping breath as his eyes flew opened..

"That's it, Anthony, that's it dear boy!" Ducky encouraged the ailing man as the team released their own collective breaths and exchanged relieved glances.

Tony took a second, then a third breath and, although ragged, his breathing appeared to be getting stronger.

"Atta boy, Tony," Gibbs whispered.

Turning his head from side to side in short agitated movements, Tony's glazed and unfocussed eyes were filled with fear and confusion. It was clear that he was completely disoriented and had no idea where he was or what was happening. He only knew that people were trying to kill him and he had to get away.

The oxygen mask muffled his guttural yell as he kicked his legs out violently to free himself from their restraining hands. His arms flailed wildly but were quickly pinned to his sides. Eyes wide with terror and his chest heaving, he continued to struggle against their grip, arching his back and writhing furiously.

"Hold him!" Gibbs ordered.

They tried to adjust their holds on him - firm enough to keep him still yet gentle enough to keep from hurting him more as they each called his name, speaking comforting and calming words. He spat a string of vicious curses unable to think past the fear and pain that was burning in his chest and back and causing his head to pound mercilessly. Then, as what little strength he had finally dissipated and his verbal protests waned, one voice pierced through the haze of terror and confusion that engulfed him.

Gibbs.

Gibbs moved himself into Tony's eye line and watched as his agent struggled with glassy, bloodshot eyes that refused to focus. He turned his head in the direction of Gibbs' voice though he wasn't sure if Tony was actually seeing him or if he really knew what was happening around him. He placed a hand on his agent's shoulder and spoke in the quiet yet firm tone that Tony knew so well.

"Easy, Tony, we got you."

Again, Tony turned his head toward the sound of Gibbs' voice but he was unable to reply. Yet as his body became lax and he allowed their touch, they knew he understood that help had arrived.

"Anthony, can you tell me where you are?" Ducky asked, hoping to garner a response.

Tony opened his mouth as if to answer but no words were forthcoming.

"Not to worry. Just try to relax, my boy," Ducky said patting his arm gently. "I'm going to look you over quickly and then we'll get you to the hospital, hmmm?"

Tony's eyes drooped closed and for a frightening moment, Gibbs thought his agent had stopped breathing again.

"Ducky?" he said, his concern obvious.

"It's alright, Jethro, the poor lad's exhausted," Ducky said opening Tony's shirt and revealing ugly dark bruising on his chest and stomach.

"Oh my…that must be dreadfully painful," he said, more to let the younger man hear the calmness of his voice then to state what was perfectly obvious.

Probing Tony's ribs and collarbones with warm and gentle hands; Ducky's felt a rib shift beneath his fingers as Tony sucked in a sharp breath.

"Looks like a broken rib or two," Ducky stated, shaking his head in disgust. Despite his efforts to be as gentle as he could Tony screwed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth in an effort to stifle a cry.

"Can you give him something for the pain?" Gibbs asked.

"I'm sorry, Jethro, Narcan is an antagonist," he explained as the EMT's brought the gurney to Tony's side. "It prevents the opiates from binding to the brain, interrupting the effects of the drugs. Unfortunately, it would also counteract any painkiller I give him. We need to get him to Bethesda."

They assisted the EMT's to lift Tony onto the gurney, cringing as the injured man gasped in pain at the movement. Descending the stairs brought more pain and as they tried to ease the gurney over each step to the ground floor. By the time they had reached the ambulance, Tony was pale, diaphoretic and barely able to keep his eyes open.

"We'll start an IV en route," Ducky told the EMT's, stopping suddenly as he climbed into the back of the ambulance. "Oh, I am sorry, Jethro. You will want to travel with Anthony."

"Go ahead, Duck," Gibbs said, knowing that Tony's condition was far from stable. "I'll be right behind you."

He looked at his agent's deteriorating condition and as reluctant as he was to let Tony out of his sight, he knew it was best for Ducky to be with him in case of further medical crises. As Gibbs walked quickly to his car he opened the driver's side door and looked back at Ziva, McGee and Palmer. Concern for Tony was etched into their faces as they stood silently watching the ambulance leave the scene.

"Ziva," Gibbs said.

"Notify Director Vance of the situation and have him send another team with more equipment and flood lights to assist us process the scene," she replied.

"McGee!"

"Call Abby, have her meet you at Bethesda. Check the BOLO's on Evan Grayson," McGee replied crisply.

"Palmer!"

The younger man startled. He had not expected to hear his name called but felt strangely comforted to be included.

"Um…wait for the agents to finish photographing, sketching and measuring. Bag the bodies, transport them to the morgue and prepare them for autopsy," Palmer responded.

Gibbs surveyed each of the worried faces before him and climbed into the car.

"Boss? You'll let us know?" McGee asked.

Gibbs nodded, confident that the young agents and the assistant ME would take care of business despite his absence and their concern for their partner and friend.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Exceeding his usual breakneck speed and taking advantage of a few shortcuts, Gibbs arrived at Bethesda Naval Hospital five minutes before the ambulance. He paced impatiently in the waiting room, wondering what the hell could be keeping them when the doors from the ambulance bay burst open and Tony was wheeled in among a plethora of medical staff. He briefly glimpsed his agent before the younger man was whisked through another set of double doors into the emergency room.

"Ducky!" he called after the ME, who appeared only mildly surprised to find Gibbs already at the hospital. "What the hell happened?"

"It's not good I'm afraid, Jethro," Ducky said grimly. "He's in full respiratory arrest. I must go. I'll let you know as soon as I have any news."

Gibbs was still staring at the closed double doors fifteen minutes later when the clomping sound of Abby's platform boots resonated down the hospital corridor.

"Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God!" became her mantra as she spotted Gibbs and hurled herself into his waiting arms. She pulled back from him a little to study his face and her eyes filled with tears. "Gibbs," she whispered. "Please tell me he's okay…please tell me he's sitting up and talking and flashing that amazing DiNozzo smile…"

"Abs...he's"

"No!" she said placing her fingers over his mouth. "Don't tell me bad news, Gibbs, please don't tell me bad news…well, okay…I realise the fact that Tony is here in the hospital means it must be bad news…'cause if it was good news and Tony was okay then we wouldn't be here in the hospital and you wouldn't look like you _totally_ want to kill somebody." The tears overflowed as she spoke timidly in a tremulous voice. "We just got him back Gibbs and I didn't even get a chance to be happy about that or to hug him, or tell him how much I really, really missed him or anything."

"You'll get the chance," Gibbs' said softly.

She watched him appraisingly for a moment before attempting to compose herself.

"You're right!" she said with a sniff and wiping her mascara mussed eyes. "But this time, anyone who takes his letter-opener, his American Pie coffee cup or his Mighty Mouse stapler…answers to me!"

"Good enough," Gibbs said with a nod of approval.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Ziva and McGee arrived at the hospital almost two hours later, well-armed with coffee and Caff-Pow and desperate for news on Tony's condition. As they entered the waiting room they recognised the strained and frustrated voice of their team leader, coming from the nurses' station.

"…We've _been_ patient for two hours," he said, the sharpness of his tone earning him an icy glare from the nurse. "If _you_ can't tell me what's happening with my agent, then find me someone who can!"

The nurse huffed and disappeared into the Emergency Room as Gibbs turned to his agents.

"What have you got?" Gibbs asked them while snagging the hot coffee from McGee's hand.

"We finished processing the crime scene, Boss. Not a lot there, really. Used syringes, cigarette butts, trash, empty water bottle and the mattress Tony was laying on," McGee told him. "We removed as many prints as we could but most were smudged or layered. Agent Balboa's team is taking the evidence back to the lab to wait for Abby."

"Balboa's back?" Gibbs asked.

"He and his team arrived back last night. They started rotation again at 1600," McGee said.

"Palmer has taken the bodies of the gunmen back to the morgue to prepare them for autopsy," Ziva continued. "They were not carrying any identification. He will take their prints so Abby can run them through AFIS."

"No news on Tony?" McGee asked as Gibbs resumed pacing around the room like a caged lion.

"He went into fell respiratory arrest in the ambulance, " Abby answered in an unusually subdued voice. " There's been no news since."

Ziva and McGee sat with Abby while Gibbs continued to pace. It was another 15 minutes before the doors swung open and Ducky walked wearily towards them.

"Duck? What the hell's going on? It's been hours!" Gibbs snapped.

"I do apologise, everyone, it took much longer than we anticipated to stabilise Anthony's condition," Ducky said.

"So…he's stable?" Abby asked hopefully.

"He's critical but stable, Abigail, however, there's no doubt our Anthony's a fighter," he replied proudly. "Come, sit down everyone and I'll explain what's happening."

They moved into a private room and seated themselves on the two well-worn couches. Gibbs remained standing and leaned rigidly against the doorframe.

"Anthony was given a very large dose of heroin that depressed his respiratory system and caused him to stop breathing," Ducky explained. "We administered Narcan at the scene, in the ambulance and here in the hospital in an effort to reverse the effects of the heroin. However, due to Anthony's pre-existing respiratory problems, he repeatedly went into respiratory failure and we were forced to sedate him, intubate and place him on a ventilator."

"You said he was stable?" Gibbs asked.

"Only due to the ventilator, I'm afraid. Each time we attempted to extubate he arrested again," Ducky replied, looking at the stricken faces. "On the positive side, the x-rays taken of his facial injuries were clear of breaks or fractures. Although there are clean breaks to the eighth and ninth ribs on the left side of his chest, there was no perforation to his lung. The ultra-sound revealed no internal bleeding and he's responding to treatment for dehydration and malnourishment."

"How long will he need the ventilator?" McGee asked.

"At this point, we aren't certain, Timothy," Ducky answered. "As the opiates in Anthony's system are metabolised, his breathing will improve. The doctors are treating him with medication to assist this. Judging from the results of his blood tests and the track marks on his arms, whoever did this has been injecting him with heroin several times a day for the last week. I'm afraid, on top of everything else, Anthony is facing a very painful and extremely unpleasant withdrawal period."

McGee placed a comforting arm around Abby's shoulders as she let out a sob, while Ziva's eyes burned with fury and a need for vengeance. Gibbs' fisted hands were shaking with rage and he thrust them into his pockets to conceal them.

"As Anthony is presently on the ventilator and already sedated, the doctors have elected to perform what is known as Ultra Rapid Detoxification under heavy sedation."

"What does this treatment entail?" Ziva asked.

"Essentially my dear, Anthony would receive high doses of opioid antagonists, such as naloxone while under deep sedation. This accelerates the acute phase of withdrawal and can be completed within 24 to 48 hours. Since Anthony will be heavily sedated, there is no great discomfort or memory of acute withdrawal, however, protracted symptoms will still be present when he awakes and he will require various other medications to control them."

"Is it dangerous?" Gibbs asked.

"The procedure has its risks, yes, but Anthony will remain under close medical supervision. Given the lad's past pulmonary and respiratory problems I believe the faster we get him over the worst of the withdrawal symptoms, the better chance he has of recovery."

"When would the procedure start?" McGee inquired.

"The sooner the better," he replied.

"Can we see him?" Abby asked tentatively. "Please, Ducky, just for a minute."

Ducky smiled gently.

"I had a feeling you might ask, my dear. I've already arranged it, but just for a moment."

They followed Ducky down the corridor to a private room in the Intensive Care Ward. With great apprehension, they entered Tony's room, startled by the amount of complex and intricate equipment keeping the agent alive.

Abby and Ziva moved to the head of the bed where Tony lay completely still except for the ventilator controlled rise and fall of his chest. The bruising on his face was stark against his pale complexion. A network of wires and tubes ran from various machines to his body and IV's, including a unit of blood, intersected at a Picc line inserted just below his collarbone.

"A transfusion?" Gibbs asked.

"Just a precaution, Jethro, to try to protect his kidneys and liver," he turned to the other worried faces. "I know it looks overwhelming but try not to let the hardware worry you. Preliminary testing on his kidneys and liver shows minimal damage and his EEG was very positive. We've performed routine tests for HIV/AIDS, hepatitis and endocarditis, all of which can be caused by the use of dirty or shared needles. We should have preliminary results soon."

Ziva leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Tony's cheek**. **

"Bevakasha Elohim, azor lo lehavri,**" **she whispered and then repeated in English.** "**Please God, help him to heal."

Abby stroked his cheek, feeling the bristly texture of his week old stubble beneath her fingers.

"Wanna know a secret?" she whispered in a voice thick with emotion. "I think you're extra hot with the whiskers. You get well and wake up really soon, okay? I miss you, Tony."

She kissed his forehead and let a subdued McGee lead her from the room.

"You're in very good hands, my boy!" Ducky said, patting Tony's lax hand. "Director Vance called and insisted that you have the very best doctors at your disposal. All you need to do is rest and heal and let the doctors do the hard work. I'll be back to see you first thing in the morning."

Ducky left the room to retrieve the evidence bag containing Tony's clothes as Abby would need them for forensic testing. Gibbs surveyed his agent with a mixture of worry and anger in his eyes.

"Tony? You listen to me," he whispered, taking a firm hold of Tony's wrist. "It won't be easy…but you can do this…I know you can. This _will not_ beat you."

He joined the others in the corridor as a pretty nurse from the night shift moved in to monitor Tony's vitals and make any necessary adjustments to the equipment.

"There's nothing more we can do here tonight," Gibbs said. "Tony's here because he tried to shut the Graysons down. Let's go finish the job."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

**A/N:- Thank you to Shirik for her assistance with the Hebrew. L**


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional

A/N: Couple of chapters based on the team and the investigation while Tony remains under sedation. Hang in there with me, much more Tony coming up later. I promise.

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Five**

Thomas Grayson tapped his fingers impatiently on his antique oaken desk, waiting for a call on the secure line in his study. He removed the lid from the Waterford decanter and poured himself another glass of cognac. He swirled the amber liquid in the crystal balloon before indulging in another sip and relishing the burning sensation of the liquor.

'_How did this all go to hell_?' He thought bitterly.

Nearly nine months ago, Thomas had financed his only son Evan, into the illegal narcotics trade as a major player. He was determined his son would one day take over the running of his business empire but first, Evan needed to learn how to run a profitable company. If the lesson was learned through illegal business ventures, then so be it - that was after all, where Thomas had got his own start.

Evan had shown surprising confidence and guile in dealing with the highly volatile, often treacherous and street-wise dealers, distributors and minor players of the drug underworld. At six foot two and 220 pounds with military training, a quick temper and a mean-streak a mile wide, Evan Grayson cowered to no man and quickly built a reputation as formidable, unforgiving and someone you didn't cross.

Thomas Grayson's accountant had created a myriad of overseas accounts that bounced and criss-crossed the ill-gotten funds all around the globe, internationally laundering the funds. This and a highly sophisticated encryption, made tracing the origin and destination of the funds almost impossible.

Things had been going particularly well. There had been lucrative dealings with several offshore drug cartels and they had established a contact in the Naval Supply Corps at Norfolk who had agreed to organise the distribution of drug shipments to various bases and ships in the US Navy. Things were looking rosy...then Evan met Gus Bricker.

Bricker came to Evan's aid in a bar fight six weeks ago and, despite Thomas' protests, Evan befriended and brought Bricker into the organization as his right hand man. His people had done a thorough background check on the newcomer who appeared to be whom he claimed. Still, Thomas had his suspicions about the timing of the meeting.

Shortly thereafter, Evan brokered his biggest shipment to date. Seven million dollars of high quality heroin, cut with PCP. The evening the shipment was to arrive at the dock, Evan contacted him to advise that CWO Farrell had identified Gus Bricker as a federal agent.

Thomas had ordered Bricker's immediate death and instructed his son to kill the Warrant Officer so there would be no one to link them to the murder of an undercover federal agent. It was too late to divert the cargo ship and their seven million dollar drug shipment was intercepted and seized by federal agents from NCIS.

He hadn't heard from his son or his nephew, Billy Matthews, for almost a week when, finally, the secure phone on his desk rang and he ripped the receiver from the cradle.

"Evan, are you all right, son?" he asked.

"I'm fine Dad. I've been staying at a hotel near Fairfax. I didn't want to call you until I could get to our safe house and use the secure line." After a short pause Evan continued. "I'm sorry Dad, I thought I could handle this on my own."

"We've got bigger things to worry about," Grayson said. "I thought I told you to kill the fed right away?"

"I wanted to make an example of him. Let people know what happens when you mess with Evan Grayson. I strung him out for a few days and got him hooked so bad he was begging for a hit. I ended it this afternoon - gave him a lethal dose. He's dead now," Evan replied.

"No son, he isn't. My sources say, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo was found by NCIS this afternoon and is on life support in Bethesda Naval Hospital."

"But…how…they must have arrived just after I left," Evan stuttered. "I sent Waterson and Foster to dispose of the body; I haven't heard from them since."

"They're dead, Evan. There was a shootout with the feds and they were killed," Grayson informed him.

Evan gasped audibly at the loss of two close friends. Anger and rage surged through him at the thought of what Gus Bricker's deceit had cost him.

"If Brick-, if DiNozzo talks the feds will be all over us," Evan said.

"They've got nothing on me, Evan, but you're right, if DiNozzo tells them what he knows they'll tear this town apart looking for you. Stay at our safe house until I can organise to get you out of the country," Grayson said. "Is there any other way they can make a case against you?"

"No, we made sure we covered our bases. We always wore gloves so there was no prints left anywhere. Except…"

"Except what?"

"DiNozzo, got his hands on my laptop and copied all the transaction and contact records to a memory-stick. It's okay though, that's when Farrell arrived and blew his cover. We found the memory-stick in DiNozzo's pocket and destroyed it."

Grayson exhaled loudly.

"That was too close, Evan. If that sailor hadn't arrived to identify DiNozzo, we could have lost more than this operation – we could have lost everything," Grayson growled.

"Dad, have you seen Billy? He knows too much about this, I don't trust him to keep his mouth shut."

"He's being held by NCIS. Damn fool got arrested for breaking into DiNozzo's apartment."

"The _idiot_!" Evan snapped. "Looks like my cousin may have finally out-lived his usefulness."

"It's DiNozzo we need to worry about. If he lives to teatify he can do some serious damage," Grayson stated.

"I'll take care of it," Evan said coldly. "DiNozzo will be dead within 24 hours."

"With him out of the way, you and I will be the first one's suspected."

"I'll stay at our safe house, Dad, but you need to set up an alibi."

"I already have the perfect alibi in mind. I'll leave this in your hands, son, but be careful. When this is over, we'll make arrangements to have you flown to our Cayman Island estate. There's no US extradition treaty – the feds won't be able to touch you."

**-Oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

The group disbursed when they returned to headquarters. Abby headed to her lab to process the evidence and Ducky to Autopsy to attend to the two gunmen they had encountered at the abandoned tenement building. As Gibbs, Ziva and McGee entered the squad room, Gibbs eyes looked to the landing where Director Vance was waiting for him.

"See what else you can find out about Billy Matthews. I want him in Interrogation in ten minutes."

"On it, Boss," McGee replied as Gibbs ascended the stairs to stand at the Director's side.

"Thought you'd be on your way to kick Grayson's door down," Vance said.

"Like you said, we've got nothing on Thomas Grayson. He sure as hell won't tell me where his son is," Gibbs replied. "I'll take a run at Matthews. See if he knows or if he can give us something on the old man."

Vance nodded his approval.

"How's DiNozzo?" he asked.

"You talked to the doctors," he replied wearily.

"But you know the man," Vance replied calmly. "Ultra rapid detoxification, ventilator keeping him breathing, painful withdrawal period and a number of other painful injuries. Is he going to be able to make it back from this?"

"He'll make it!" Gibbs said without a second's hesitation.

Vance pursed his lips; realising Gibbs' answer had been based more on wishful thinking than medical facts. He let it pass.

"Matthews is waiting for you in Interrogation," the Director said. "He's been read his rights and has waived his right to have an attorney present. Looks like he wants to make a deal. I've called Commander Barnes to watch your interrogation and to make a decision on what kind of deal can be offered. He's on his way."

"You tell him about Tony?"

Vance nodded.

"I'm aware of their friendship," he replied.

Gibbs took a step in the direction of the bullpen and looked back at the Director.

"Ducky said that you'd arranged for the best doctors."

Vance nodded again.

"He's my agent too, Gibbs," he said as he turned for his office. "Keep me apprised."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

"Talk to me, McGee," Gibbs said walking back to his desk.

"No hits on the BOLO for Evan Grayson, Boss. He hasn't used his credit cards or bank accounts since the day of the drug bust," McGee said.

"He'd know we'd be monitoring them," Gibbs said.

"My guess is that the Graysons have access to cash or maybe even accounts in a false names in case of an emergency," the younger man said.

"What about the payments to CWO Farrell's account?"

"Still tracing, Boss, it could take days," McGee replied, the frustration evident in his voice.

"Stay on it," Gibbs said before turning his attention to Ziva. "Got anything on Matthews?"

"William James Matthews, 26, is the son of Thomas Grayson's younger sister, Margaret. She and her husband Gregory Matthews were killed in a road accident when their son was ten years old," Ziva said. "Matthews was raised by his uncle. Over the years there were several incidents reported to the police and Social Services."

"Child abuse?"

"Never proven," she said. "Matthews was just a child and was too frightened to press charges."

"He had nowhere else to go," Gibbs surmised. "More recently?"

"He has a history of drug and alcohol abuse and has been in and out of rehab four times. Several priors, mostly small stuff, breaking and entering, DUI, leaving the scene of an accident," Ziva said.

The elevator's soft "ding" sounded the arrival of JAG Prosecutor, Commander Peter Barnes. As he hurried into the bullpen, his face was a picture of concern.

"Agent Gibbs," he called. "Director Vance told me about Tony, how's he doing?"

"Critical but stable," Gibbs replied.

"Oh God, I don't know what I'm going to tell Helen," he said knowing his wife's big-sisterly affection for the agent. "Can we see him?"

"Not for a while, Commander. He's not up to visitors." Gibbs replied.

"You have Billy Matthews in custody?"

"On my way to question him."

"You think he knows where Grayson is?" the Commander asked.

Gibbs shrugged.

"Let's find out."

As Gibbs and the Commander headed for the Interrogation Room, Ziva and McGee exchanged a look and followed hot on their heels.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Commander Barnes, Ziva and McGee watched a clearly agitated Billy Matthews from the viewing room of Interrogation Room. Matthews was a slightly built man with scraggy dark blonde hair that desperately needed washing. His brown eyes were bloodshot and glassy and darted around the room in a jittery manner. He would have been an attractive young man but for the toll that years of substance abuse had taken on his body.

Gibbs entered the room and sat directly opposite Matthews, carrying a folder and several items contained in evidence bags.

"Tell me why I shouldn't charge you with the attempted murder of my agent," Gibbs said.

"I…it wasn't me…I didn't hurt him," Matthews pleaded. "Wait…attempted murder? He's not dead?"

"He not dead," Gibbs leaned forward over the table and whispered menacingly. "You need to think about what you tell me because we'll know if you're lying."

"I'm not lying. It wasn't me, it was Evan."

"Your cousin, Evan Grayson?" Gibbs asked.

"Yes. He was furious when he found out that Gus...er…Tony was an undercover fed. He beat him up real bad."

"Then what happened?"

"Evan called his father…he told him to kill Tony and the Navy guy," Matthews replied.

"You heard him say that?" Gibbs asked.

"No, but Evan told us what his father said. He told us his father had ordered him to kill Tony and the sailor immediately. They grabbed Farrell first…he tried to fight…but Evan injected him with heroin, a lot of heroin and…and then they threw him in the river."

"Why didn't he kill DiNozzo?"

"They were going to but Evan wanted to make him suffer…he said Tony had made a him look like a fool and he wanted to make an example out of him."

Gibbs teeth were clamped together hard enough to make a muscle jump in his jaw.

"What happened then?" he ground out.

"They took Tony to the tenement house. They beat him up and strung him out…small hits at first…a couple of times a day. He was tripping real bad…he got real sick."

"And you just watched?" Gibbs hissed.

"Yes," Matthews said looking at his hands and at least having the sense to look ashamed. "I was scared…I heard Evan talking with Waterson. They were going to kill me too; I'd seen too much. So I stopped going home and I stayed in a hostel until I ran out of money. I tried to help Tony, Agent Gibbs but Evan was going to kill me, too!"

"If you were trying to help him, why didn't you get him the hell out of there or call someone for help?"

"I should have...Tony begged me to," he answered, still looking at his hands. "Everyday he asked me to call you but…but you don't know what my uncle and cousin would do if they found out." Finally meeting Gibbs' intense gaze he said. "Family or not, they would have killed me."

He watched as Matthews wrapped his arms around his torso, his body shook with harsh tremors and he was sweating profusely. Gibbs knew Matthews' reaction was more than nervous energy. Withdrawal from methadone could be almost as bad as the withdrawal from heroin.

"This meth withdrawal or are you using?" he asked.

"I'm not using, I swear. I ran out of meth and I…I was too scared to go to my apartment and get more."

Gibbs lifted the items in the evidence bag and listed them one by one.

"Cartier dress watch, Nikon SLR digital camera, JVC Everico Camcorder, Longines Hydro Conquest divers watch and eleven hundred and eighty dollars cash – all belonging to NCIS Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo." A hot burst of anger flared in his chest and he took a swift breath to cool it. "You didn't help Tony…you broke into his apartment and helped yourself."

"No…no…it wasn't like that," Matthews' voice took on a desperate tone. "Tony was hurting…we were both hurting. He told me he had enough money for us to get away from my family. He gave me his address…his real address…and told me where he hid his spare key and where to find his cash. I was going to get the money and come back for him, I swear!"

Gibbs rose to his feet and started to circle Matthews like a shark circling its prey.

"Cut the crap! You were headed in the opposite direction to the tenement house! You weren't going back for Tony, you robbed him and left him to die!"

He slammed both fists down on the table and Matthews reeled back in fright.

"I _was_ going to come back for him…but just after Tony told me his address, I was leaving the tenement house and Evan came back. He nearly caught me. I hid in the next room and I heard him tell Tony that he was sick of playing games and he was gonna kill him. I swear I thought Tony was dead Agent Gibbs…all I could think of was getting the money and going as far away as I could before they came looking for me."

Matthews met Gibbs' gaze once again.

"I know things, Agent Gibbs, things about my uncle and things about Evan. If you can promise me protection, I'll…I'll testify against them."

Gibbs rose from his chair and exited the room, leaving Matthews breathing a huge sigh of relief. The lead agent met the Commander in the corridor outside the interrogation room.

"What do you think?" he asked the JAG Prosecutor.

"Before I offer any deal, I'd like to speak to him myself," Pete said. "Find out exactly what he knows and doesn't know, what we can prove and can't prove."

"What about the Graysons?" Gibbs pressed.

"We have enough to issue a warrant for the arrest of Evan Grayson for the murder of CWO Farrell and the attempted murder of Tony. We can question Thomas Grayson about the whereabouts of his son, but that's all."

"_That's all?_" McGee protested. "Matthews just admitted that Thomas Grayson orderred Tony killed!"

"Matthews also said that he didn't hear the order because he was guarding the door,"Pete replied. "Believe me, I want Thomas Grayson as badly as you do but we still can't prove that he's involved in any of this."

"DiNozzo nearly died because of them," Gibbs hissed. "If I have to shut the Graysons down one at a time, I'll do it."

Gibbs startled back to the bullpen and called over his shoulder to McGee and Ziva.

"Grab your gear."

"Where are we going, Boss?" McGee asked.

"To kick down a door."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Having secured the warrant for the arrest of Evan Grayson, the team headed for the Grayson estate. McGee sat in the passenger seat, his brow deeply furrowed from more than Gibbs' sub-light speed.

"Something on your mind, McGee?"

"I don't understand why Tony would give Matthews his real address. He must have been so desperate to trust Matthews like that," McGee said.

"Wasn't trust," Gibbs replied. "Tony gave Matthews his address knowing he'd trip the silent alarm and we'd investigate."

Ziva's voice sounded from the backseat, her frustration clearly evident.

"We had enough probable cause to arrest Evan Grayson for drug-smuggling _before_ Tony went undercover," she said. "Why did we wait? Tony almost died and for what? What has changed?"

Gibbs steered the sedan through another tight, high-speed corner before answering.

"Matthews' and Tony's testimonies, will put Evan Grayson away for life," Gibbs replied. "There's seven million dollars worth of heroin in our evidence locker instead of on the streets. As for Thomas Grayson…we've still got our ace in the hole."

"What ace in the hole?" McGee asked curiously.

"My money's still on DiNozzo," Gibbs replied.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

The stately home of Thomas Grayson was surrounded by an eight-foot fence and secured by an ornate wrought-iron gate and a guardhouse. Flashing his badge and his ID, Gibbs instructed the security guard to open the gate then drove the sedan down the expansive driveway and parked in front of the home.

Climbing from the car, the agents walked to the large double doors and rang the bell. The maid startled when a warrant and ID's were thrust at her the moment the door was opened. Stepping around her, the agents made their way to the luxurious living area where Grayson sat looking as though he had been expecting their arrival.

Ziva and McGee continued to search each room for any sign that Evan Grayson was there but moments later they reported back that other than the domestic staff; there was no one else in the house.

Thomas Grayson was strangely unperturbed about three federal agents storming in to his house. Rather than the objections, threats and protests they had been expecting, he sat quietly sipping tea and completing his crossword while the agents searched his home.

When questioned about the whereabouts of his son, Grayson calmly advised that he did not know where Evan was. When threatened with obstructing justice, Grayson irritatingly, yet correctly pointed out that, first, the agents would have to prove that Grayson actually _did_ know where his son was. It took all of Gibbs' willpower, not to knock the smug smile right off Grayson's face.

"Tell me Agent Gibbs."

"That's Special Agent Gibbs," he corrected tersely.

"Excuse me - _Special_ Agent Gibbs," Grayson said condescendingly. "Just what has my son supposedly done, to attract the unwanted attention of NCIS?"

"Your son is wanted in connection to the attempted murder of a federal agent, the murder of a Naval officer and the illegal importation and distribution of marketable quantities of narcotics," Gibbs told him.

"That is totally preposterous!" Grayson blustered. "Look around you, Gibbs, I am a very wealthy man. My son can have anything money can buy. Why would he need to resort to illegal means to make money?"

"Rumour has it that's where you got your start, Grayson," Gibbs answered with a shrug. "Maybe the apple doesn't fall far from the tree."

The right cross that Grayson threw caught Gibbs flush on the jaw, taking him by surprise. Before Grayson could withdraw his arm, Gibbs grabbed the forearm and twisted it behind his back, hooking his handcuffs from his pocket in one smooth movement.

"Pack your toothbrush, Grayson, you're coming with us. Ziva, read him his rights!"

Gibbs' eyes narrowed as he watched Ziva lead the handcuffed man out of the house and to the back of the sedan. His famous gut was churning. Grayson was a shrewd and highly intellectual man - a man known for his coolness under pressure. The punch was completely out of character and Gibbs couldn't help wondering if it was all a part of some elaborate plan.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Six**

Upon their return to the Navy yard, Thomas Grayson had surprisingly waived his "one phone call" and had refused to discuss the incident until morning when his attorney would be present. Without further discussion or complaint, he prepared to bed down for the night on a lumpy, narrow cot in one of the NCIS holding cells. Gibbs' gut was screaming a warning – he knew they were being played but he just didn't know how.

With Thomas Grayson cooling his heels, Gibbs was called to a meeting in the Director's office with Vance and JAG Commander Barnes to discuss the most recent events of the case.

In discussions with the commander, Billy Matthews had listed the names of known drug lords and prominent politicians and LEO's who had attended secret meetings with Thomas Grayson to organise the legal importation of narcotics. He'd seen Evan Grayson inject a lethal dose of heroin into Farrell and inject multiple smaller doses into Tony over the course of a few days, to create an addiction and inflict serious pain and suffering. JAG had offered Matthews witness protection and immunity and he had arranged for the continuation of his methadone program.

Vance had instructed Agent Balboa and his team of Jarvis, Kendall and "Doc" Rickard to take Matthews to an NCIS safe house until a hearing could be arranged. As Agent Rickard had medical field training in the Marine Corps, he could monitor Matthews while he resumed his meth program. His program had been interrupted for a week and although he was likely to suffer from nausea and headaches, his condition did not warrant hospitalisation.

"You think we have enough to put Thomas Grayson away?" Gibbs asked.

"I won't lie to you, Gibbs," the commander said. "No matter what Matthews tells us, without proof it's gonna come down to the questionable word of a known drug addict with multiple misdemeanours and felonies, against the word of the reputable Thomas Grayson."

Director Vance leaned back in his chair.

"So DiNozzo's the key here – our case against Grayson would be a lot stronger with a seasoned federal agent in the witness box. How soon do you think it will be before we can talk to him?"

"The docs want him on the vent for at least 48 hours, maybe more," Gibbs replied.

Pete sighed heavily at the thought of his friend's suffering.

"We've got enough to charge Grayson Senior with suspicion of conspiracy to murder. I'll speak to the judge and see if we can postpone the hearing for a few weeks until Tony is well enough. By that time, we add Tony's testimony we should have enough to put both Graysons away for life."

Vance turned to his lead agent.

"What other leads are you working on?" he asked.

"Our first priority is locating Evan Grayson; Abby's still analysing evidence collected at the tenement house and the warehouse. McGee's still trying to trace the origin of the payments to CWO Farrell's account."

"If they lead us to Grayson we'll have proof he was paying to have drugs distributed through the Naval Supply Corps," Vance said. "Do you think DiNozzo has proof of Thomas Grayson's involvement?"

"I do," Gibbs said.

"How can you be so sure?"

"Like you said before, Director, I know the man."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Ziva looked up from her computer as Gibbs returned with a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

"Gibbs, I have just spoken by phone, to CWO Farrell's sister, Jennifer Tyler," Ziva said reading from her notepad. "She and Farrell have not spoken for several years since a dispute over the distribution of their parents will. While she was shocked to hear of her brother's death, they were not close. She could not think of anyone who would want him dead."

Ziva exhaled a long, frustrated breath.

"Something else?" Gibbs asked.

"There has to be a faster way to do this!" she hissed through clenched teeth. "There are over 3,500 Supply Officers in the US Navy – we do not have time to do a background check on every one!"

"Maybe we should concentrate on those based at Norfolk," McGee offered. "We know Farrell was based there and it is close in proximity to the delivery site of the drugs."

"Do it," Gibbs told her then approached the IT specialist's desk.

"McGee…once you've traced the origin of the funds transferred into Farrell's account, is it possible to use that point of origin to locate other accounts that received payments?"

McGee nodded his head enthusiastically.

"Absolutely. I can cross reference the point of origin with the names and bank account records of all US Naval Supply Officers and compile a list of anyone else that has received payments from the source," McGee said.

"But?"

"This is amazingly sophisticated technology, Boss. I've never seen anything like it before. The files have an encrypted online security protocol that automatically and randomly changes every 6 hours. Trouble is, it takes much longer than six hours to work out the encryption and by the time I do, the code has changed again. Whoever designed this accounting system and encryption program was very good."

"Be better." Gibbs instructed, reaching for his ringing cell phone.

"Gibbs…What?…When?…We'll be right there!"

"Something is wrong?" Ziva asked as she worriedly looked up from her computer.

"Gear up… someone just tried to kill DiNozzo."

"Is he okay?" Ziva asked.

"He's alive, that's all I know."

The agents grabbed their gear and hastily made their way to their sedan in the garage. The peak hour traffic had come and gone as Gibbs sped to the hospital.

**-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

Leaving the car illegally parked in the ambulance bay they flashed their badges at the ruddy-faced security guard who backed off and let them pass. As they burst through the doors to the ICU, Tony's room was still a hive of activity.

"What the hell happened?" Gibbs asked loudly, momentarily forgetting the other patients and the need for quiet.

A doctor and the pretty nurse they had seen previously in Tony's room, approached them.

"You must be Agent Gibbs, I was told you were coming. I'm Captain Taylor, I've been treating your agent since his arrival earlier today," he said offering his hand in greeting. Gibbs shook the offered hand, still looking anxiously into Tony's room.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked.

"Firstly, Agent DiNozzo's condition hasn't changed, he's critical but stable," the doctor told him. "Secondly, this is one of our ICU nurses, Lieutenant Danielle Harris. The Lieutenant believes a man she saw acting suspiciously, tampered with the equipment in Tony's room…he dropped this syringe."

The doctor had placed the syringe in an emesis basin to preserve any fingerprints.

Gibbs turned to the nurse. "Is that what happened?"

"Yes, Sir, I didn't actually see him touching the equipment, but when I found him in Tony's room and asked what he was doing, he knocked me over and ran away," the nurse explained. "I found the ventilator and heart monitor disconnected and the alarms turned off. Tony would have stopped breathing and we wouldn't have known. After the man ran away, I was taking Tony's vitals and I found the syringe under the bed. It's not the type we use in this hospital."

"How the hell did he get in to the ICU ward without being noticed and where was the damn security guard?" Gibbs demanded to know.

"The man in Tony's room was dressed in a hospital maintenance uniform," the nurse replied. "One of the other patients had a code blue and the security guard was…er… distracted."

"Ziva, McGee take her statement, arrange for a sketch artist and get a copy of the security tapes!" Gibbs said sharply. "And I want a Marine guard posted at the door to Tony's room ASAP."

"On it, Boss!" McGee replied crisply as he and Ziva led Lieutenant Harris towards the staff lounge to take her statement.

Gibbs and Captain Taylor walked into Tony's room and stood beside the bed. Gibbs looked worriedly at the unconscious man as the doctor made minute adjustments to drip flow rates of the replacement IV's.

"We don't believe the man interfered with anything else, Agent Gibbs. Lieutenant Harris was particularly quick thinking and disconnected the IV's almost immediately in case they had been tampered with. We replaced everything, the IV's, the ventilator, the monitors, the lot," the doctor said indicating the disconnected equipment at the back of the room. "I have reviewed Tony's vitals and I took a blood sample just in case but if he had been injected with anything, he would have had a reaction by now."

Gibbs' brow creased as he noticed his agent sweating profusely.

"Does he have a fever?" he asked.

The doctor nodded.

"His temperature is elevated but the sweating is due to the opiate withdrawal he's experiencing. It's one of many unpleasant side effects, I'm afraid. We're replacing his lost fluids with a saline solution but he's still deeply sedated so he's not in any discomfort."

Gibbs nodded still looking anxiously at his agent.

"We'll need to run our own tests on the equipment you removed," Gibbs told him.

"I thought you'd ask," he said. "Though we'd appreciate it back as soon as possible, with budget cuts, the hospital isn't overly equipped these days."

"We'll take the IV bags for toxicology tests," Gibbs said. "My agents will see if they can lift any prints from the equipment, we shouldn't need to take it. Your people all wear gloves?"

"Standard practice in ICU," the doctor confirmed. "If there's nothing else, Agent Gibbs, I need to check on my other patients."

"Just one more thing, Captain. I'm restricting access to Tony's room. I'll need a list of staff authorised to enter – a short list – anyone not on the list, doesn't get in, no exceptions."

The doctor didn't look happy with the enforced change to his ward but accepted the decision. "I'll see to it," he replied.

Dragging a chair over to the bed, Gibbs sat down wearily. It had been a long, almost sleepless week since Tony's disappearance and he scrubbed his tired eyes with his hands. The room was silent except for the rhythmic pumping of the ventilator and the soft whirring sound of the automatic medication device as it delivered another measured dose.

"Seems you pissed off some people while you were gone," he said quietly to his agent. "I'm putting a Marine at your door and an agent by your bed. You get well…we'll watch your six."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

ICU Nurse Danielle Harris sat across the small table from Ziva and McGee in the staff lounge. McGee was struck by how attractive the young nurse was and found himself taking particular notice of the shape of her deep brown eyes and the sprinkling of freckles on her nose. Ziva frowned at her partner as she began the interview.

"When did you first notice this man?" Ziva asked. "Can you describe him?"

"I was attending to some paperwork at the nurses' station when I saw him hovering around in the waiting area," Danielle answered, smiling a little nervously at McGee's undivided attention. "He was about 5 feet 9, thin, with very dark hair and eyes."

"Too small for Evan Grayson," McGee remarked.

"Did you ask what he was doing there?" Ziva continued.

"Oh yes, he seemed a little edgy, nervous if you like, so I asked him if he needed any help," Danielle replied. "It wasn't until he turned to face me that I noticed he was wearing a hospital maintenance uniform."

"What did he say?" McGee asked, still clearly infatuated by the young nurse and drawing a small bemused smile from his partner.

"He said he'd been sent up to attend to a seized faucet in the bathroom adjoining room 4," Danielle replied. "I told him that I wasn't aware of a problem in that bathroom and I asked to see his work order."

"Did he have a work order?" Ziva asked.

"Well, he should have, we don't allow any maintenance staff on the ward without proper identification and a work order," she sighed. "Before he could show me we had a code blue in room 12 and I had to go. I told him to wait by the desk until I returned."

"Room 4, is that Tony's room?" McGee enquired.

"No, Tony is in room 6, but we have a large white board behind the nurses' station with the list of patient names and their room numbers. It would have been easy for him to see it."

"What happened next?"

Danielle got up from her seat at the table and walked to the fridge.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked. "The coffee here is poison but there's water or juice."

"Juice would be great, thanks!" McGee replied with an enthusiasm that made Ziva cringe slightly.

"Water is fine, thank you," Ziva replied.

As Danielle handed out the drinks, Ziva prompted. "You were telling us what happened next."

"Oh…yes, the code blue. As it turned out, there was enough staff to handle it so I wasn't needed," she said, leaning with her back against the refrigerator. "I returned to the nurses' station and noticed that the maintenance guy was gone. I started to return to my paperwork but I just felt something wasn't right, so I thought I'd check on my patients. When I walked into Tony's room, the man was leaning over him but I didn't see him touching anything."

"And then?"

"I asked him what he was doing. I startled him and he started to run for the door. I don't know what possessed me but I tried to block his path," she said with a roll of her eyes. "He knocked me on my butt and ran away."

"Oh my God…were you hurt?" McGee asked with enough overstated compassion to make Ziva cough and clear her throat.

"Just bruised my ego," Danielle replied with a laugh as she turned and rubbed her shapely rear end. "And my butt."

McGee almost choked on his juice and he felt his face heat up with colour.

"I wanted to chase after him but I noticed Tony's ventilator and heart monitor alarms had been switched off," Danielle said. "I switched them back on and then I saw the syringe laying on the floor beside Tony's bed. I disconnected his IV's in case they had been tampered with and then I pressed the emergency button for assistance."

"That was very good thinking," McGee complimented. "You may have saved Tony's life."

Danielle's face lit up with a radiant smile.

"I couldn't let anything happen to our BLP, the other nurses would kill me."

"BLP?" McGee asked.

"Oh yeah!" Danielle replied with a cheeky grin and a slight blush. "Best Looking Patient. Tony won the ICU nurse's poll by a country mile!"

"Really? That's…er…nice to know," McGee said feeling his ego balloon rapidly deflating.

"Now all we need is for him to wake up. We're running another poll to see whether his eyes or his smile are his best feature," Danielle gushed.

Ziva got to her feet and gently prodded a disappointed McGee out the door before her.

"Thank you Lieutenant Harris, you have been very helpful. A sketch artist from our office will be along shortly," she said before turning back to say in an exaggerated whisper. "If you ask me – it is definitely his smile."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Evan Grayson paced nervously around the living room of the family safe house. It was practical and liveable but most importantly, it was fitted with a secure room, a secure phone line, false passports, a sizeable amount of cash and a small arsenal. While it didn't offer the comforts of his luxuriously furnished apartment, he knew his location was safe from detection from the federal agency he knew would be relentlessly pursuing him.

Once again, he'd screwed up royally. He'd been played by an undercover fed and had jeopardised not only his own fledgling operation but also the empire his father had worked tirelessly for twenty years to build. This time he refused to hide like a frightened child while his father took care of his mistakes. The future of Grayson Industries was at stake and all because he had let his guard down and befriended Gus Bricker, or rather, Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo.

He had contacted Russell Anderson, a close friend from his Army days. His drug habit notwithstanding, Russell was a good man to know when you needed to make someone "disappear." Russell had handled a few situations for the Grayson family in the past.

Evan arranged a large cash payment – half now and half when the job was done. He was furious when he'd learned that, after getting so close to DiNozzo, Russell had failed to kill him. Although he had vowed to try again, Evan couldn't wait around for that to happen.

He threw the glass he was holding against the wall and watched as it shattered and littered the carpet with splinters and shards of glass. Then he entered the combination of the locker and removed an M24 sniper rifle.

'_This time_,' he thought. '_I clean up my own mess_.'

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00ooo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Seven**

After interviewing the ICU Nurse, Lieutenant Harris and the lax security guard, McGee and Ziva re-joined Gibbs in Tony's room.

"You got anything?" Gibbs asked.

"Lieutenant Harris was extremely helpful. We believe her diligence saved Tony's life. However, the same cannot be said for the security guard who did not see or hear a thing until after it was all over," Ziva replied not disguising her disgust.

"We have the hospital security tapes, Boss, and a sketch artist and Marine guard are on the way," McGee added. "From Lieutenant Harris' description, the man in Tony's room was not Evan Grayson."

"Give me the tapes; you're staying here."

"Boss?"

"One of us stays with Tony at all times. Is that clear?"

Receiving acknowledgements from both agents Gibbs added.

"McGee, you'll stay until I can relieve you."

"Boss? Um…can't Ziva stay? I was hoping to work on those banking records I've been tracing…" McGee stopped mid-sentence as Lieutenant Harris entered the room to check Tony's vitals and beamed another smile in McGee's direction. "er…er…as I was saying Boss, as close as Tony and I are, I insist that I be the one to stay by his bedside in his time of need."

Gibbs didn't know whether to be confused or irritated - but irritated won out, particularly when he saw Ziva trying to hide an ear-to-ear grin. Shoving a clipboard at McGee he said.

"Give this to the Marine. No one other than the people on that list get anywhere near Tony and everyone show's ID. No ID, no entry – got it?"

"Got it, Boss," McGee said, running his eye quickly down the list, he was relieved to find that Lieutenant Danielle Harris had made the cut.

"We'll take the IV's and syringe back to Abby for testing – there were no prints on the ventilator. Let me know if there are any changes in Tony's condition. I'll relieve you in a few hours," Gibbs said.

McGee glanced quickly at Lieutenant Harris and replied solemnly.

"No problem, Boss…as long as it takes…my place is here with Tony."

As they left the hospital room, Gibbs turned to Ziva.

"He feeling all right?" he asked puzzled by the younger man's behaviour.

"I think McGee is just fine," she grinned as they walked back to their car.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Returning to the office, Ziva sat at her desk to check for any hits on the BOLO on Evan Grayson and Gibbs took the elevator to the morgue where Ducky was just finishing up his paperwork.

"Jethro!" Ducky called. "How is Anthony? We heard there was another attempt on his life?"

"A poor attempt. They failed, no thanks to me," Gibbs replied, his voice thick with self-recrimination. "I should have seen this coming, Duck, I should have known that Grayson would try to get to Tony. There should have been a Marine on his door and an agent at his side from the moment we got him back. I screwed the pooch and almost cost Tony his life."

"Now, Jethro, we were all focussed on apprehending the wretched people responsible for Anthony's condition. You really shouldn't blame yourself. I trust Anthony wasn't harmed further?"

"No…there's no change," Gibbs said wearily.

"Yes, well that's to be expected. The ultra-rapid detox will takes at least 48 hours to complete," Ducky said.

"You got anything for me, Duck?"

"Nothing that you didn't already know I'm afraid. Mr Palmer sent the prints of the two gunmen to Abby to run through AFIS. As your young witness, Mr Matthews said, the prints belonged to Joseph Foster and Samuel Waterson. Both had lengthy police records of unconscionable deeds. We removed three 9mm slugs from Foster, two from his heart and one just above the heart – nice grouping by the way, Jethro, I see you haven't lost your touch."

Gibbs shrugged as Ducky continued his report. "Then we removed two 9mm slugs from Waterson's chest, one from his diaphragm and the other we removed from his ascending aorta – I'm told our dear Ziva was responsible for those."

"Thanks Duck," Gibbs said, moving toward the exit.

"Jethro," Ducky called, removing his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "I believe you have the infamous Thomas Grayson in a holding cell downstairs?"

"He took a swing at me so we brought him in a few hours ago."

"And yet he's still here?" Ducky said thoughtfully. "I'd have thought that a man of such stature and wealth would have the ability to circumvent an assault charge without raising so much as a sweat…unless, of course…"

"He knew someone would try to kill Tony and needed the perfect alibi… I was thinking the same thing," Gibbs said continuing out the door.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Gibbs and Ziva walked into Abby's lab to the strain of Frank Sinatra's greatest hits.

"Gibbs, how's Tony?" Abby said, her green eyes filled with concern.

"He'll be fine, Abs. McGee's with him and there's a Marine posted outside his door."

"I was so scared when Ducky told me. Then I remembered that Tony's fish were still at his apartment and all alone, so I went straight back and brought them to my lab so we could miss Tony together."

Abby pointed to her counter top and the round fish bowl where two small goldfish could be seen happily swimming around a sunken model of a red Ferrari.

"I got kinda side-tracked when I went to get them earlier," Abby said. "First with the 100 kinds of fish food debacle and the whole OJ Simpson-type car chase thing… which was, like, _totally_ cool, by the way."

"I did not know that you were a Frank Sinatra fan, Abby," Ziva said.

"Oh, I don't…At first, I was playing my own music…I have this really, really awesome new CD by the Hammer-headed Zombie Cats. Then Ducky told me that fish can die of fright if the music is too loud and I just couldn't face Tony if I killed his fish, he loves them!"

"He does?" Ziva asked with surprise.

"He _totally_ does," Abby replied. "They're the only pets his ever owned…unless you count his sea monkeys, of course. Anyway, Ducky lent me his Frank Sinatra CD and Zeus and Apollo really seem to like it…and now the only one in danger of dying of fright from the music…is me."

She grimaced as she noticed that Gibbs' patience had well and truly run out.

"Speaking of Ol' Blue Eyes, you wanna know what I got," she said to Gibbs.

"Yep," he replied handing her a Caff-Pow.

"Okay…the substance in the syringe found in Tony's hospital room was a 90% match to the tox results I got on the Naval drug related cases during the last few months and to the substance that killed CWO Farrell. It was all from the same shipment."

"What about the sample from the shipment on Saturday?" Gibbs asked.

"An 83% match," Abby said. "That's close enough to confirm that the two shipments were manufactured at the same place."

"Anything else?" Gibbs asked.

"Oh yeah…let's talk trash," Abby smiled wickedly. "I found these little pieces of gum among the trash found at the warehouse _and_ in the tenement house where you found Tony. They had been chewed up and placed back in the wrapper and tossed on the ground …which is kinda disgusting…but much better than stepping in chewed up gum and having it stick to your shoe."

"And?"

"_And_, my silver haired fox, I identified the gum as spearmint flavoured Juicy Mint…personally, I prefer the peppermint kind because it holds its flavour longer… but DNA results prove that the gum was chewed by the same person."

"Which puts the chewer at both crime scenes," Ziva stated.

"Correct!" Abby enthused.

"Any hits on CODIS?" Gibbs asked.

"No, but DNA testing is still a relatively new identification resource, there are only 5 million profiles on record."

"Evan Grayson was in the Army," Ziva said. "His DNA would be in the US Armed Services profiles, yes?"

"Yes, but we can only access it to positively identify the remains of a body. In the meantime, I tested the DNA on the gum against our two dead gunmen from the tenement house and Billy Matthews."

"You get a match, Abs?"

"They didn't match but Billy Matthews had approximately 12 percent shared DNA with our mystery gum chewer. That's about average between first cousins which means…"

"The chewer is more than likely Evan Grayson," Ziva said.

"But we need a sample from him to be certain," Abby answered.

"His father is in our holding cell downstairs. His DNA would be very close to his son's, would it not?" Ziva asked.

"Yes, it would, but we can't force him to give a DNA sample," Abby replied. As Ziva opened her mouth to offer her services, Abby added. "Not legally anyway."

Ziva didn't bother to hide her disappointment that she would be unable to use her own methods of "persuasion" to extract a DNA sample from the all too smug Thomas Grayson.

"Anything else Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"I tested Tony's clothing and the mattress he was laying on. It was filthy and covered in his bodily fluids plus lots and lots of rattus norvegicus faeces."

At Ziva's quizzical look, Gibbs replied. "Rat crap."

"Right again Big Cheese! Rat crap everywhere – poor Tony's private hell. Plus, I found this in Tony's pocket," she said holding a small black object in an evidence bag. "It's the lid from a memory-stick, not the sort of thing I'd expect Tony to have…McGee on the other hand…"

"Just the lid?" Gibbs asked.

"Yep," Abby said.

"Perhaps Tony downloaded some important evidence and someone found him with it," Ziva stated.

Gibbs ran his hands through his hair in frustration.

"We've got too many questions and not enough answers," he growled. "Ziva, it's late – go home, get some sleep and relieve me at the hospital at 0600."

Ziva nodded, shared a small smile with Abby and hurried for the door.

"It's late Abs and you're tired. You should sleep too!"

Abby shook her head vigorously, her pig-tails swinging madly. "I still have to run tox screens on the IV's from Tony's room and I have the security tapes from the hospital to process."

"Not tonight. You've been working around the clock since Tony disappeared. We've got him back now… and you need to sleep."

"Are you going home?"

"I've gotta relieve McGee."

Abby heard the unspoken "and be with Tony" and she wrapped Gibbs in a huge hug, tucking her head into the crook of his neck.

"Give him my love, Gibbs…and tell him I'm taking good care of Zeus and Apollo and I'll come and see him tomorrow."

"I will Abs."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Thomas Grayson cursed as he tried to find a comfortable position on the narrow bunk of the holding cell.

"Not exactly five-star luxury," Gibbs said.

"Agent Gibbs, unless you're here to bring me a glass of warm milk you've wasted your trip. I have nothing to say to you," Grayson said turning away from Gibbs.

"Why are you still here?"

"I am a man of many talents, Agent Gibbs, but unfortunately escaping from jail isn't a skill I possess."

"Don't play me Grayson. Your attorneys could have had you out of here before the ink dried on the charge sheet."

"It's Sunday, Gibbs. My attorney's weekend rates are outrageous. I'll call in the morning."

"There was another attempt on my agent's life a few hours ago," Gibbs said.

"Surely you can't suspect that I had anything to do with that? I've been here, in your own holding cell, for four and a half hours and haven't even made a call!" Grayson said smugly.

"If you had anything to do with the attempt on his life, there won't be a hole big enough for you to crawl into," Gibbs hissed.

"If you don't mind, _Special_ Agent Gibbs, I'd like to get some sleep," Grayson said turning towards the wall. "Get the light, on your way out."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

It had been three hours since Gibbs had ordered McGee to stay by Tony's hospital bed. A rather formidable looking Marine was now standing guard outside the door, a list of authorised names in his possession. Even those on the list had to produce their identification before the Marine would grant access.

Every 15 minutes like clockwork, McGee watched with keen interest as the pretty nurse, Lieutenant Danielle Harris, performed her regular checks on Tony's vital signs. He checked his watch, still another 5 and a-half minutes until Danielle was due to come back…not that he was counting.

He had enjoyed his little chats with Danielle and was quite pleased they were now on a first name basis - even though, somehow, all of their conversations seemed to centre on Tony.

'_How long have you known Tony; is Tony single; what are Tony's hobbies; what music does Tony like?'_

McGee sighed loudly and shook his head.

"Even beaten up and unconscious you can still attract the hot women," he said. "You're cramping my style, DiNozzo, you know that?"

He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes in thought.

"Maybe, I should tell Danielle that you're gay. I still owe you for the time you told all the secretaries downstairs that I 'bat for the other team.' Thanks for that, by the way. It's nearly four years later and Mary Louise Rafferty from Accounting is still trying to fix me up on a blind date with her gay brother."

McGee frowned at the amount of perspiration still visible on Tony's face and neck. His sweat-drenched hair was sticking to his head. Moving to the side of the bed, McGee placed his hand on Tony's shoulder and felt the heat radiating through the thin scrub top. He pressed the emergency button and leaned in to speak to his partner.

"I'm gonna call someone to see if they can do anything about your fever, okay?"

A moment later, Lieutenant Harris arrived.

"Is everything okay, Tim?" she asked.

For the briefest of moments when he looked at her pretty face and her concerned expression, McGee forgot why he had pressed the call button.

"Err…er…it's Tony…he's really burning up," he managed, finally.

Her gloved hand rested on Tony's forehead then brushed back his sweat-soaked hair as she placed a digital thermometer in his ear. After the soft beep, she checked the reading and saw it was 103-9.

"You're right, his temperature's up. It's not unusual for patients to experience high temperatures while going through acute withdrawals, but with Tony ventilated we don't want it to lead to febrile convulsions or vomiting."

He helped her to pull back the blankets and fold them at the foot of the bed, leaving only the sheet covering the unconscious man.

"I think I'll have the doctor take a look at him," Danielle said.

"Is something wrong? I mean…something else?" McGee asked.

Danielle smiled and McGee felt his knees buckle slightly.

"Just being careful…I wouldn't want to face your Agent Gibbs if something happened to Tony on my watch."

'_Hmmm…_' McGee thought approvingly. '_Pretty and perceptive_.'

Danielle returned a few moments later with Captain Taylor. He reviewed Tony's medical chart, took his vitals and checked his reaction to stimuli to ensure he was still deeply sedated. The doctor made a slight adjustment to Tony's medications, administering something to bring his temperature down. He reassured McGee that Tony's fever was an expected side effect of the treatment and invited him to call for the nurse should he have any more concerns about Tony's condition.

Soon after, McGee found himself alone with Tony. Lieutenant Harris' shift was ending and she had to brief the next shift on the status of her critical patients before she left the hospital. Despite the doctor's reassurances, McGee was still troubled by Tony's temperature and somewhat unnerved by the quiet stillness of a man he knew to be animated, robust and blessed with a vigorous, if somewhat quirky, zest for life.

"You know, Tony, if your temperature gets any higher, I'll be able to have a weenie roast in here!" McGee said to the unconscious man hoping to draw a wise-ass retort but logically knowing it would not be forthcoming.

Gibbs entered the room a few moments later with a coffee in both hands. McGee looked at the coffee cups longingly but was not offered one.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked gruffly moving to the side of the bed to see for himself.

"The doctor's just been, Boss," McGee told him. "I was concerned about Tony's fever but the doctor's very confident that it's all part of the withdrawal process. He adjusted his meds and said to call him if we need him."

"Anything else?"

McGee shook his head.

"Well, I was shocked to learn that Tony had no opinion on this year's Oscar nominations, he could not be drawn into commenting on Pamela Anderson's new breast implants or Oprah's dieting nightmare and he was no help at all with the giant crossword," McGee said discarding the out-dated women's magazines he'd reluctantly read from cover to cover to ease the boredom.

Gibbs lips twitched in a small smile.

"Go home – get some rest. Ziva's relieving me at zero six hundred. I want progress on those bank accounts by the time I get to the office."

McGee nodded.

"Night, Boss, er…night Tony," he said giving the unconscious man's shoulder an awkward pat.

In the quiet, semi-dark room Gibbs placed his hand on Tony's forehead, trying not to cringe at the heat still radiating from him. He reached for a cool cloth and placed it on his agent's forehead before taking a seat in the chair and beginning his all-night vigil.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

McGee closed the door to Tony's room and nodded goodnight to the Marine. As he turned to walk down the corridor he did a quick double take as he noticed Lieutenant Harris walking in the same direction.

"Oh...hey, Danielle, you're on your way out?" he asked.

"Yes, I'm on my way home," she replied with a dimpled smile.

"Great…since...I'm…er…heading that way; can I…er… walk you to your car?"

As they rounded the corner to the elevator, the smile instantly disappeared from Danielle's face and she stopped stock-still.

"No way!" she said.

"Ouch…o-kay…harsh but quick," McGee replied with a grimace.

"What? No…Tim, you don't understand," she said, her eyes wide with panic. "The man coming this way…that's him…that's the guy I saw in Tony's room!"

"The orderly? You're sure?"

"He's no orderly," Danielle said confidently. "When he was in Tony's room yesterday, he was dressed as one of the maintenance staff."

"Okay…my Boss is with Tony. I need you to go there and tell him what's happening. Stay there until we come back, okay?"

"Okay," she nodded before heading back to Tony's room.

McGee stood by the entrance to the ICU ward as the clearly agitated man approached. His eyes darted nervously from person to person until they settled on McGee and widened in surprise. McGee drew his weapon ensuring he kept the barrel pointed downward and the safety on in such a public area. He walked cautiously towards the anxious man.

"Federal Agent! Stop where you are and lace your fingers behind your head," he ordered firmly.

The man stopped with a look of horror and guilt on his sweaty face. McGee started to close in and was six yards away when a group of medical students entered the corridor, inadvertently walking between the two men and blocking McGee's shot.

The man took off like a startled rabbit and headed into the fire stairs with McGee several yards behind. Descending the stairs to the hospital lobby at near break-neck speed the fleeing man knocked a lady to the ground as he made his way through the front doors of the hospital and on to the sidewalk.

He kept running, intermittently looking back to determine McGee's position. Darting onto the road he veered into the path of an oncoming car. The blood-chilling screech of tyres was a short precursor to the sickening sound of breaking bones as flesh and bone collided with metal. McGee watched helplessly as the man's body was propelled into the air and landed with a nauseating thud on the street.

Moving quickly to the man's side, McGee flashed his badge, holstered his side arm and called to the onlookers and 'Good Samaritans' to move back. The fast approaching footfalls behind him signalled the arrival of Gibbs.

"McGee?"

"He's dead, Boss. Ran right in front of that car, the driver didn't have a chance," McGee said, watching as medical personnel from the hospital attended to the shocked and distraught driver.

"This is the guy who was in Tony's room yesterday?" Gibbs asked.

"Danielle…that is…Lieutenant Harris was certain this was the guy."

"Call Ducky and get him dow-…"

"Boss, something wrong?" McGee said as Gibbs' attention was drawn to the dead man' hand. He watched as Gibbs withdrew a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, reached down and opened the man's lifeless fingers to reveal a full syringe.

"You think that was meant for Tony, Boss?" he asked.

Gibbs nodded.

"I don't believe in coincidences, McGee," he replied. "Get Ducky down here and run the crime scene. I'll be with Tony."

"On it," McGee answered, watching as Gibbs double-timed it back into the hospital.

Reaching Tony's room he checked in with the Marine guard and let Danielle go home. He stood at the bedside of his agent and took a moment to allow a deep, cleansing breath. He reached forward and placed his hand on Tony's shoulder to silently reassure the unconscious man he wasn't alone.

A mixture of relief and rage coursed through his veins as he realised that another plan to kill Tony had almost worked. The younger man was safe – for the moment - and resuming his seat beside the bed, Gibbs made a promise to ensure he stayed that way.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

**A/N:- **If there actually happens to be a heavy metal rock band called Hammer-headed Zombie Cats, I am sorry for using your name without permission….I am also sorry _**for **_your name. L


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**.

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Eight**

After the latest attempt on Tony's life, McGee, Ziva and Abby made their way back to the Navy yard hoping to uncover any new information that would lead to the capture and conviction of Evan Grayson. Several hours later, Ducky and Palmer's autopsy results on the dead "orderly" had revealed needle track marks on both inner elbows and signs of multi-organ congestion and acute pulmonary oedema suggesting a long history of substance abuse.

Despite the man's efforts to defile and poison his body with drugs, it was the massive brain injury caused by the impact with the car that caused his sudden death. As he had no ID on him, Ducky took his fingerprints and sent them to Abby for identification purposes.

Abby quickly matched the substance in the syringe found in the dead man's hand to the heroin substance Tony had been repeatedly injected with at the tenement house. Working with McGee they had managed to enhance the hospital security tapes enough to confirm Lieutenant Harris' claim that the dead "orderly" was in fact the "maintenance man" who had been in Tony's room the previous day. AFIS identified the dead man as Russell Anderson, aged 40.

At nearly 0200, the operations room was quiet and dimly lit. The night shift team had been called to a crime scene and McGee was back at his desk trying, without luck, to trace the payments to CWO Farrell's account. He looked up as Ziva returned to the bullpen and resumed her seat.

"I have just been downstairs, speaking with Agent Reynolds. He has been on duty in the holding cell area since this afternoon. He confirmed that Thomas Grayson has made no phone calls and is still locked up in our holding cell sleeping like a dog," she said.

"That's sleeping like a log, not a dog," McGee corrected.

Ziva looked confused.

"But logs do not sleep and dogs do, yes?"

"Yes, but the expression is sleeping like a log."

"I will never understand your American idioms," she said shaking her head in annoyance. "In any case, Grayson could not have orchestrated the attempts on Tony's life while he was in our custody."

McGee looked up from his keyboard.

"So he would have had to set this up prior to our arrival at his house."

"Perhaps we should check his phone records?" Ziva asked.

"I have," McGee said. "Calls to and from his home landline and his private cell all look routine but you can bet a guy as loaded and savvy as Grayson has a secure line of some kind but they're almost impossible to detect, let alone trace."

"So Grayson finds out we have Tony and that we are looking for his son. He places a call to arrange Tony's death and then waits for us to arrive to question him about his son's whereabouts," Ziva said.

"He takes a swing at Gibbs, we take him into custody and should anything happen to Tony, Grayson has the perfect alibi," McGee shrugged. "Even when we charge him with suspicion of conspiracy to murder and assault on a federal agent, his attorney will bust him out of here so fast tomorrow it will make your head spin."

"So we need a connection from our dead guy, Russell Anderson, to the Graysons," Ziva said.

"Anderson has a record - assault with intent to cause grievous injury and carrying an unlicensed firearm. He served four years in Pittsburgh State Correctional Institution where he also received treatment for his drug addiction. There were also two charges of murder but they never made it to court. Witness mysteriously disappeared the first time and the second time the evidence disappeared from the Third District Police Station. Since his release, he's been in and out of rehab a few times. There's no connection to Tony or to Thomas Grayson that I can find."

"Wait," Ziva said as she started to rifle through the paperwork strewn across her desk.

"You got something?"

"Where is my…ah, here it is! Where did Anderson go to rehab?"

"Um…Arlington Alcohol and Drug Rehabilitation Centre twice and once at Silver Spring Rehab Centre," McGee replied.

"When was he in Silver Springs?"

"Er…he did a court ordered nine week program starting October 1st last year."

Ziva raised her fist in victory.

"We have our connection!" she said smiling at McGee.

"What is it?"

"Our witness, Billy Matthews, nephew of Thomas Grayson, attended the same program in Silver Springs. They knew each other."

McGee grabbed his car keys and his backpack.

"Call the safe house and tell them we're on the way over. I'll get the car and meet you downstairs."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

McGee and Ziva were just 20 minutes into their journey from the Navy yard, when they received a call from the director advising that the safe house had been hit and there was an agent down. Taking advantage of the nearly nonexistent traffic in the pre-dawn hours, they arrived at their location 10 minutes later to find the street had been cordoned off and a plethora of emergency services vehicles were parked at odd angles in front of the safe house.

McGee flashed his ID at the Metro PD uniformed officers who lifted the tape and allowed them to drive their vehicle into the cordoned off area. They double-timed it to the safe house where they found Agent Balboa controlling the crime scene and holding a bloodied handtowel to his upper arm.

"Are you okay, man? What happened?" McGee asked him.

Balboa shook his head.

"We had Matthews situated in a back bedroom. Doc was with him every second to monitor his meth treatment and Kendall watching over them both," Balboa said. "Jarvis and I walked to the front of the house to check the perimeter when we heard shots being fired at the back. We saw the gunman jump the back fence and fired off a couple of rounds – he put a slug in my shoulder. He had a motorbike parked nearby and by the time I got to my feet and gave chase he was gone. The neighbours heard the shots and called Metro PD."

"Casualties?" Ziva asked.

"Matthews is still with Doc, he's pretty shaken up," Balboa's eyes hardened as he continued. "Jack Kendall tried to shield Matthews and took two in the chest. He didn't make it."

"Jack Kendall?" McGee said with obvious concern. "I was just talking to him this morning."

"Director Vance wants you to take Matthews back to the Navy yard until we find out how the gunman knew where we were," Balboa said. "He's got another team on the way to process the crime scene."

Balboa said winced in pain as he inadvertently moved his arm.

"You should sit," Ziva said leading him to a chair and signalling for a waiting EMT to move in. "Where is Agent Jarvis?"

"Bathroom. Been puking his guts up since Jack was killed," Balboa said. "Stupid thing is, my team had just finished a tough case in Jacksonville. We were supposed to be on stand down for a week but the director called us back to baby-sit Matthews."

"Take it easy," McGee told Balboa. "Is Matthews still with Rickard?"

Balboa nodded.

"Ziva and I will start the photos and sketches until the other team arrives."

"We must also phone Gibbs and tell him what has happened," Ziva said as she and McGee walked back to their sedan to grab their gear.

McGee nodded sullenly.

"Did you know Agent Kendall well?"

"No, not really," McGee answered. "It's just so much more difficult when you lose one of your own – first Tony and now Kendall."

"We have not lost Tony, McGee," she said placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Come, we have much to do."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs watched intently as the authorised nursing staff performed their 15-minute checks on his agent. He watched them adjust the IV flow rates, replace the units of blood and saline, take his vitals and blood pressure and make the necessary notations on his medical chart. Tony's temperature fluctuated during the course of the night but the medical staff appeared satisfied with his progress and Gibbs knew that, even heavily sedated, Tony was fighting back.

He shook his head recalling the call he'd received from the director just three hours ago advising him that the safe house had been compromised and Agent Kendall killed. Gibbs flipped open the leather wallet containing his ID and positioned the black band midway across the shield as a mark of respect for the fallen agent. He didn't know Kendall well, though he thought him a capable agent.

He was exhausted by hours of an anxiety level that was off the scale and hadn't subsided even after they'd located Tony. The lack of sleep and the worry during Tony's absence finally caught up with him. The ventilator beside Tony's bed continued to rise and fall in a slow steady rhythm and despite his best efforts and the ocean of bitter hospital coffee he'd consumed, Gibbs was eventually lulled into a fitful sleep.

It was still dark outside, but faint pink and orange stripes on the horizon warned of the soon-approaching sunrise. He leaned back in his chair, still dozing with his legs stretched and his feet resting on Tony's bed.

Battle-honed senses shouted a warning and he opened his eyes and sat bolt upright. His heart pounded as he looked around the semi-dark room but saw no immediate threat. Cursing himself for his over reaction, he leant back in his chair and was just about to close his eyes again when he saw the telltale red dot of a laser sight travel across the wall, before coming to rest on Tony's right temple.

Gibbs drew his knees up to his chest and kicked out powerfully with both feet, pushing the hospital bed six inches to the left and away from the window. A split second later, the simultaneous sound of glass shattering and the crack of a powerful rifle rent the air.

He felt the shock of impact coursing through his troublesome right knee and he toppled backwards from the falling chair. He hit the floor and bounded back up in one rolling motion and threw himself, headlong, towards his unconscious agent in case the gunman took another shot. The sudden movement of the bed disconnected leads to the ventilator and heart monitor, causing both to alarm stridently. The door to the room flew open and Gibbs twisted around, his Sig drawn, ready to defend the unconscious agent.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Leaving McGee guarding Billy Matthews at the Navy yard, Ziva drove to the hospital to relieve Gibbs. She tried to push all thoughts of lack of sleep and exhaustion from her mind as she drove to the all-night Starbucks and bought coffee and breakfast for herself and the lead agent. It was only 0545 and the day was still dawning. She looked at the picturesque sunrise and hoped that today would be the day they cracked this case wide open.

Parking her car in the hospital car park, she entered the building and was only mildly surprised to find Abby waiting for the elevator to the ICU ward. The Goth forensic specialist had wanted to see Tony before she started work. They exchanged a smile at their identical bags of Starbucks. Entering the elevator they blocked the closing doors when they heard a shout to hold the car.

Their smiles grew larger when Ducky appeared, also carrying a Starbucks coffee and brown paper bag.

"Well now," the doctor said with a chuckle. "It looks as though Jethro will be spoiled for choice."

They exited on the ICU level and walked toward the Marine guard, juggling the coffee and reaching for their ID before entering Tony's room. The Marine was just opening the door when they heard a loud thump from within, followed by the sound of a rifle shot and the loud shrill of Tony's life support system.

"Stay back!" Ziva said sharply to Ducky and Abby and she dropped her coffee and Starbucks bag and drew her weapon.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Both Ziva and the Marine swung around the doorway in a low crouch, their weapons trained on the bed. The Mossad liaison officer gasped at the sight before them. Gibbs lay across Tony's still form and both men were covered in blood.

"Gibbs!" Ziva called, her calm voice belying her panic.

"We're not hit. Check the window!" he hissed, needing her to attend to the immediate danger.

Ziva crouched lower and warily made her way to the window to close the blinds. She peered through a small crack and surveyed the scene outside.

"Looks clear," she said. "Based on the trajectory the shooter must have been on the roof of the building across the road."

"Go!" he ordered as Ziva left the room at a run, seconding two hospital security guards to follow her.

With the alarms from the monitors still shrilling loudly, Ducky fought his way passed the guard and into the room as Gibbs climbed to his feet.

"Stay away from the window!" Gibbs snapped as he leaned over Tony's still form. "Duck, the ventilator!"

Ducky made his way to the far side of the bed, reconnected the ventilator and heart monitors and silenced the alarms. He searched Tony's body frantically for the bullet wound to explain the blood. When he had confirmed Tony had not been hit his concern immediately shifted to Gibbs.

"Jethro, are you hurt?" he asked.

"We weren't hit," Gibbs replied tightly. "He okay, Duck?"

"Yes, yes, Anthony's fine," Ducky reassured, scrutinising Gibbs from head to toe for signs of injury. "In fact, it appears that you both have come through this ordeal unscathed. Would you care to tell me where all this blood came from?"

Gibbs pointed to the remains of a unit of blood that had been hanging from the IV stand. "Bullet hit the bag, the bag exploded," he said, still looking at Tony. "You sure he's okay?"

"He's fine, Jethro," Ducky said as Abby came bursting through the door and paled even further when she saw the blood on Gibbs and Tony.

"Gibbs?" she asked tremulously.

"We're both fine Abs," Gibbs said, pointing to the remains of the blood bag in explanation. He led her away from the window and sat her in the chair by the bed where she grasped Tony's hand like a lifeline.

"Well, young man," Ducky said to Tony. "Looks like you've slept through all the excitement. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

Twenty minutes later, Ziva breathlessly re-entered the room.

"Gibbs, the shooter was gone by the time I arrived.

She moved to the window and pointed to a multi storey building across the road.

"The shot came from the rooftop and the shooter policed his brass. However, he left something behind."

She held up an evidence bag containing a wad of chewed gum that had been placed back into the wrapper and discarded.

"Juicy Mint. The same type found at the warehouse and the tenement house. This is the third attempt on Tony's life since he was admitted to hospital. I believe these people will not stop until Tony is dead."

Gibbs looked at his injured agent, lying unnervingly still. Ducky and Abby had washed off the blood and settled him into fresh scrubs.

"Stay with him," he told Ziva. "No one else comes in here."

"No one?" Ducky asked. "Not even the nursing staff?"

"No one, Duck," Gibbs replied curtly. "They want DiNozzo dead - we're gonna give them what they want."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Evan Grayson returned to his father's safe house across town and placed the rifle back into the small arsenal locker. He gave a self-satisfied smile when he thought of the degree of expertise required to make that shot in the half light, with a cross breeze, a 60 yard distance through a glass window.

"Nice!" he congratulated himself.

He had driven to Bethesda Naval Hospital in an SUV stolen from a house two blocks from the safe house. Leaving the rifle well covered in the SUV, he pulled the peak of his ball cap low and headed for the ICU ward on the 4th floor. Noticing the Marine guarding room six, his lips curled into a snarl – that had to be DiNozzo's room. He rode the elevator to the ground floor and surveyed the large courtyard that faced DiNozzo's window. He turned his back to the hospital building and smiled wickedly as he saw a large multi-story building directly across the road. The roof of the building would provide the perfect angle into DiNozzo's hospital room.

He jogged back to his 'borrowed' vehicle and drove to the parking level of the building across from the hospital. He removed his rifle, grateful that at that time of the morning the streets and building were relatively deserted. He jimmied the fire door and took the stairs to the roof and assumed his position. Setting up for the shot, he grinned as he noticed the blinds of DiNozzo's room were open. He attached a powerful scope to his rifle, wanting to ensure he had the correct room before switching to the laser scope.

He saw a silver-headed man dozing in a chair by the bed and, adjusting the angle slightly, he caught the profile of Anthony DiNozzo.

"This ends here, DiNozzo," he sneered. Swapping back to his laser scope, he discarded his gum, adjusted for the cross-breeze and readied himself for the kill shot. He watched as the red laser dot flicked across the wall before settling on DiNozzo's right temple. There was a flash of movement in the room as he squeezed the trigger but when he saw the burst of blood through his scope, he knew his kill shot had found its mark.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Having received a call from Ziva about the latest attempt on their partner's life, McGee had driven Gibbs-like through the building traffic to Bethesda. Showing his ID to the Marine guarding the door, he burst into Tony's room.

"Boss?" he panted trying to regain his breath and noticing Gibbs and Ducky in a hushed but heated discussion on the other side of the room.

Ziva walked to his side.

"It is okay, McGee," she reassured him. "Gibbs managed to push the bed out of the way just before the shot was fired. The bullet missed Tony's head by inches."

"Thank God," McGee said, frowning as he noticed Abby's legs sticking out from under Tony's bed. "Abs? Er...what are you doing?"

"Retrieving the bullet, McGee. It lodged in the base of the bed," Abby's voice reverberated from under the hospital bed. "This is kind of exciting – not the Tony getting shot at part – the retrieving my own evidence from a crime scene part. I never get to do this…got it!"

She reached out a gloved hand for McGee to help her to her feet and held up the bullet victoriously until Ziva passed her an evidence bag. More raised voices from the other side of the room piqued McGee's curiosity.

"What's going on?" he whispered to Ziva and Abby.

"Gibbs just had Tony pronounced dead and Ducky is not pleased," Ziva replied.

McGee's mouth gaped open.

"Close your mouth, Timmy," Abby giggled. "You'll catch a fly!"

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

**A/N:- I continue to be overwhelmed by your support of this story. L**


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Nine**

"They've tried to kill him three times in less than 24 hours!" Gibbs yelled in frustration. "We can't protect him here, Duck!"

"And what makes you think you can protect him anywhere else?" Ducky said, his voice strained and tight. "Anthony simply cannot be moved while he is on the ventilator."

"Then take him off the vent."

"You can't be serious, Jethro," Ducky protested. "To remove the ventilator now, in the middle of his detox, would be highly irregular, not to mention extremely dangerous."

"More dangerous than him lying here helpless with someone trying to kill him?" Gibbs asked. "I'm getting him out of here Duck. With your support or without it."

Ducky looked at the rare desperation in his friend's eyes. He knew Gibbs had not made this decision without examining the risks and possible consequences and he took a deep breath to calm himself.

"You do realise this whole discussion is moot if we remove the ventilator and Anthony's respiratory problems persist?" Ducky said tersely. "If that happens, Jethro, no matter how mild the reaction, I will not allow him to be moved under any circumstance and I will fight you every inch of the way."

Gibbs nodded his head.

"Duly noted, Doctor, if he still needs the vent, we'll think of something else."

"Very well, however, I insist he remain here under Captain Taylor's and my close observation for at least three hours," Ducky added.

Gibbs looked at his agent then nodded in agreement.

"Deal," he said, not insensitive to the difficult position in which he had placed his friend.

Begrudgingly, Ducky disconnected the ventilator tube from the mouthpiece but left Tony intubated in case of emergency.

They spent the next few minutes anxiously watching the rise and fall of Tony's chest and silently cheering as he took each new breath unaided.

"Will you take him to another safe house?" Ducky asked.

Gibbs shook his head.

"Safe house was compromised tonight, Duck. Our agency has a leak. I won't risk him to another surprise attack."

"Wherever you take him, Jethro, he will still experience painful and very unpleasant withdrawal symptoms? I must go on record as strongly objecting to his removal from medical supervision."

He placed his hand on Ducky's shoulder.

"I know how you feel, Duck, but I need you to tell me about the withdrawals - what to expect, how to help him through them?"

Ducky was particularly unhappy about the former Marine taking Tony from the hospital but he'd seen that look in his old friend's eyes too many times to think he could change his mind. Reluctantly, he acquiesced.

"Of course," he replied curtly. "I'll do it for Anthony."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

While Ducky kept a watchful eye on Tony's respirations, Gibbs turned his attention back to his team.

"What have we got?" he asked. "Abby?"

Abby held up two evidence bags. One containing the wad of gum Ziva found on the ledge of the building where the shot had been fired, the other held the bullet she had removed from the base of Tony's bed.

"If the gum matches the other samples, which is highly probable, then we can place the shooter at three crime scenes," she said. "The bullet's a bit mangled but it looks like a .300 Winchester Magnum. I'll run it through ballistics and see if we get a hit."

"Ziva?"

"The shot was fired from the roof of the building across the road. Allowing for the street and the courtyard in front of the building, that's a distance of approximately 60 yards. The shot would have hit the intended target had you not seen the laser dot and reacted," Ziva said. "That was no lucky shot, my guess would be that we are looking for a military trained sniper."

"Evan Grayson was in the Army," McGee said.

"Yes, but there was nothing about sniper school or sniper training in his service record," Ziva replied, then, noticing Gibbs' intense glare she added. "I will check again, of course."

"McGee?"

"I'm trying to write a program that will trace the source of the funds deposited into CWO Farrell's account. It's not easy." He sighed deeply. "I'm having trouble interfacing with one of the international servers and decrypting their security protocol and you know how frustrating that can be…or maybe you don't…anyway it's gonna take time."

"Run the banking records of everyone at NCIS," Gibbs said. "Start with the agents – but check everyone; I'll clear it with the Director. If you find any unusual payments to someone's account, you let Vance know. If we're lucky we'll find our mole."

"Yes, Boss," McGee replied.

"What about the building across the road? Any security cameras?" Gibbs asked.

"I'll call building security and Traffic Authority and see if they can pull footage of any cars leaving the car park around the time the shot was taken. Then I'll try to track them via the traffic cameras."

"We found a connection between Matthews and Russell Anderson – our maintenance man/orderly," Ziva said. "They both attended the same drug rehabilitation program at Silver Springs last year. We were on our way to question Matthews about this when the safe house was hit. He was badly shaken and we did not get the opportunity to question him. We will do so when we return to the office."

Gibbs nodded abruptly, then turned to look at his team. "No one other than the people in this room, the director, Commander Barnes and Captain Taylor know that Tony survived the shooting. No one else finds out without my authorisation – is that clear?"

Receiving the acknowledgements of his team, Gibbs turned his attention to the ME.

"Ducky, have Palmer bring the Coroner's van," Gibbs said. "If we're being watched, they'll expect us to have Tony's body transported back to NCIS. I'll need Palmer as a diversion so I can get him out of here."

"Not on your life!" Ducky said vehemently.

"You have _another_ problem, Doctor Mallard?" Gibbs said, irritated by Ducky's refusal.

"As a matter of fact I do, Special Agent Gibbs. I may not be able to dissuade you from removing Anthony from medical care but Mr Palmer is my responsibility and I simply will not allow him to be used as some… diversion!" Ducky blustered angrily. "He is not one of your trained agents, he is an assistant medical examiner and a darn good one at that!"

"Wasn't suggesting we hang him out to dry, Duck," Gibbs defended, not used to having his orders questioned. "Ziva and McGee will follow him in the sedan, in case there's any trouble."

"I'm sorry, but that is just not good enough," Ducky continued. "I insist that Mr Palmer be told that Anthony is alive. He is very fond of our Tony and I will not put him through any unnecessary anguish. Furthermore, whether or not he is used as a diversion, as it were, should be entirely his own decision."

"Ducky's right, Gibbs," Abby said quietly. "Jimmy would be, totally shattered if he thought Tony had died. We have to tell him. He'll do it…I know he will."

Several tense seconds passed before Gibbs responded.

"Call him. If he agrees, I want the van here in two hours. McGee and Ziva will go back to headquarters and fit him out with a com-link, earwig and a vest."

The sudden silence in the room was thunderous. Gibbs' gaze flicked to each member of his team.

"Anyone else have anything to say?"

Looking around her, Ziva saw her teammates had averted their eyes, not wanting to be the one to speak up. She huffed in exasperation and replied.

"If no one else will ask the question, then I will," she said tersely, her dark eyes flashing with anger. "If you must take Tony from here, why must you do so alone? Would he not be safer if McGee and I went with you? We do not understand why you have chosen to exclude us."

"Best way you can help Tony is by solving this case. He won't be safe until both Graysons are behind bars and you need to make that happen…fast," Gibbs replied. "We have a leak in our own agency. Until we know who that is, you trust no-one and you watch each other's six. I'll watch Tony's."

"That's what we mean, Boss?" McGee said. "Who'll be watching your six?"

"We do this right, my six won't need watching. Anything else?"

The determined faces and the reluctant compliance he received was all he could ask given the circumstances.

"Abs?" he said, reaching for his wallet. "Do you think you could stop at the store, pick up enough groceries for a week? Whatever you think he needs, he won't have much of an appetite for a while."

Abby nodded her head and accepted his credit card without meeting his gaze and he turned quickly and headed for the door.

"McGee, Ziva, stay with Tony until I get back. I'll be an hour," he told them.

"Where are you going, Boss?" McGee asked.

"No one gets in here!" he replied, ignoring the question.

Gibbs needed some fresh air. He walked quickly from the elevator to the sidewalk at the front of the hospital and allowed himself two or three large lung-filling breaths. He knew the chance he was taking removing Tony from the hospital while he was suffering from withdrawal. The gut-wrenching guilt of the near miss this morning nearly overwhelmed him. Had he not opened his eyes when he did, Tony would be dead. He wouldn't give Grayson and his men another opportunity, even if it meant alienating Ducky and his team. He flicked open his cell and dialled a number, waiting impatiently for his call to be answered.

"It's me," he said. "I've got trouble."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs stopped at Tony's apartment and quickly threw some sweats, old jeans, tees and runners, plus an assortment of boxers and socks and Tony's bathroom bag into a duffle. Leaving Tony's he headed across town to his home, packed his own bag. He removed the lock from his firearms trunk and extracted his M40A1 rifle and several boxes of ammunition. Securing the firearms in the trunk of his car and headed for the Navy yard to meet with Director Vance.

Gibbs had been relieved and surprised that the director had okayed his plan so readily. Vance had agreed to announce that Special Agents Anthony DiNozzo and Jonathan "Jack" Kendall had been shot and killed by unknown gunmen. He was meeting with Kendall's family later in the day to discuss funeral arrangements, however, as Tony's father was presently overseas on business, they had reasonable cause to delay his service.

The director would also announce that Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs had retired to Mexico effective immediately. Vance would arrange for Immigration to note Gibbs' travel arrangement in their records to further corroborate their story. At this point in time, Gibbs believed the director would have agreed to just about anything that would keep SecNav off his back, keep his agents safe and find the leak in his agency.

The director had arranged for Billy Matthews to be made as comfortable as possible in an Interrogation room. Two agents were to be with Matthews at all times with a third watching through the Observation Room. Despite his team being on stand down and the loss of his team mate; Agent "Doc" Rickard had agreed to stay with Matthews to continue to monitor his meth treatment. Until the identity of the NCIS mole had been revealed, no agent was to be alone with Matthews at any time.

Thomas Grayson's attorney was expected to arrive to emancipate him at any moment, clearing the way for Matthews to be transferred to an NCIS holding cell after Grayson's departure.

Gibbs brought the director completely up to date with the status of the case, leads pending further investigation and evidence waiting to be tested by Abby – there was still plenty of work to do.

"I'll arrange for an agent to work with McGee and David while you're gone, to assist them with the workload," Vance said.

"If it's all the same to you, Director, I'd rather you didn't," Gibbs said. "Not until we find our leak."

"What about Balboa?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"Jensen...McKay…Sommers…"

Gibbs continued to shake his head.

"Gibbs, I can't leave your team two men down. Do you really mean to tell me that there's no one in this agency you trust?"

"Until we're certain my agent is safe, I don't trust anyone to work with my team," Gibbs declared. "But if you want to roll your sleeves up, Leon, be my guest."

"I just might take you up on that, Gibbs," Vance said with a quick, barely perceptible grin. "How will we reach you?"

"I'll take a satellite phone."

Vance nodded.

"Good luck."

Gibbs gave a perfunctory nod to the director and exited the office and the Navy yard, heading back to the hospital to prepare to take Tony into the safety of seclusion.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

When Gibbs returned to Tony's hospital room, Ziva and McGee drove back to headquarters to meet with Jimmy Palmer and apprise him of the situation regarding Tony. Palmer had not hesitated to offer his services as a decoy…well…he had not hesitated much.

They fitted him with a com-link and earwig and he wore a Kevlar vest under his overalls. They did their best to reassure the young assistant ME that it was unlikely they would encounter any problems. The agents would be travelling behind the Coroner's van at a discreet distance and would be in constant communication throughout the return journey from the hospital to the Navy yard. When Jimmy was all set, Ziva and McGee headed back to the hospital for a last briefing with Gibbs.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Ducky and Captain Taylor had carefully monitored Tony's respirations for two and a half hours and were confident that the opiates suppressing his respiratory system had metabolised sufficiently. They had extubated Tony and his unaided breathing was strong and steady. Although he didn't underestimate the fight ahead, Gibbs allowed himself a small smile as Tony's ability to "bounce back" never failed to impress him.

Although they had stopped sedating him, it was likely the effects of the heavy sedation would last for four or five more hours. Gibbs nodded, knowing that he would have Tony re-located before then.

Abby, McGee and Ziva fashioned pillows and towels into the shape of a body and wrapped it in a hospital shroud to represent Tony's body. When Palmer arrived, they would place the pseudo-body in a body bag for transportation to the NCIS morgue.

Ducky and Captain Taylor would assist Gibbs to take the still unconscious Tony down the private staff elevator and settle him into the reclined passenger seat of Gibbs' car where he could keep an eye on Tony's respirations. Gibbs gave Abby his mobile phone and took a satellite phone with him for communication only in emergency, however, given Tony's condition, Ducky protested strongly until Gibbs agreed to check in twice daily with updates.

As they waited quietly for Palmer to arrive, Ziva and Abby sat by Tony, each holding one of his lax hands while McGee stood silently to one side. Gibbs paced impatiently and Ducky was unusually subdued.

McGee's com-link crackled to life.

"McGee, this is Palmer. I'm about to park the van. I'll be right up."

Once again, Gibbs made eye contact with each member of his team. They all had an important role to play in resolving this case. The pang of guilt he felt leaving in the middle of an investigation was overridden by the desperate need to keep Tony safe. He had no doubt that his team would do whatever they could to that end.

"Game on," he said.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Palmer reversed the Coroner's van into the hospital morgue's loading zone. Opening the back of the van, he removed the gurney and wheeled it through the doors into the morgue area. Showing his ID and signing the register, the clerk advised that the body had not been brought down from the ICU ward and NCIS had authorised Palmer to collect the body from room 6. Palmer thanked the clerk and proceeded to the service elevator.

He showed his ID again, this time to the Marine guard, still posted outside Tony's room. The door was opened and Palmer wheeled the gurney inside. They placed the pseudo-corpse into the body bag and Palmer wheeled the gurney back to the elevator and finally secured it in the back of the van. He looked around nervously and spoke surreptitiously into his com-link.

"Um…McGee…this is Palmer, do you read me? Repeat…do you read me? Is this thing on?" Palmer asked tapping the com-link repeatedly with his finger.

Ziva and McGee rolled their eyes and McGee replied. "Palmer, this is McGee we can hear you and we have you in sight."

"Oh…that's good," Jimmy said. "I have collected the…er…body and I am about to return to the Navy yard…but…er…I think there's a problem."

McGee and Ziva both leaned forward in the sedan, their eyes scanning the area for any signs of trouble.

"Jimmy, we do not see any trouble. What is the problem?" Ziva asked.

"Well…I don't know where you are," Jimmy replied anxiously. "I can't see you."

"Palmer," McGee said calmly. "Remember what we talked about. If you _are_ being watched, we don't want anyone to see _us_."

"Even me?"

"Yes, Jimmy, even you," Ziva said. "It is very important that you act naturally so that you do not arouse suspicion. We are here and we are close. Even if you cannot see us, we are watching you, do not worry. Move out when you are ready."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

After dismissing the Marine Guard, Gibbs, Ducky, Abby and Captain Taylor carefully transferred Tony from his hospital bed to a gurney and whisked him via the private elevator to the staff car park where Gibbs' car was waiting. Gibbs scanned the area, ensuring they were alone before assisting the two doctors to lift Tony onto the reclined front passenger seat of his car. Ducky placed a blanket over him for warmth and fastened the seat belt around him. Then he placed his hand on Tony's forehead and clicked his tongue against his teeth.

"He's still quite warm, Jethro. You'll have to watch that his temperature does not get too high. I do wish you'd reconsider, it's not like you to act so…imprudently," Ducky said straightening the blanket and placing the portable oxygen bottle and mask at Tony's feet in case his breathing became laboured.

"I'm trying to keep him alive, Duck, it's all arranged - we're going," Gibbs answered abruptly, knowing only too well the risk he was taking. "The Graysons have a long reach and at the moment, we don't know who we can trust. I need you to keep an eye on the others. Tony will be fine - between you and Taylor you've given me enough equipment and medication to open my own hospital."

"Yes, well, it pays to be thorough. I trust you have your notes," Ducky asked. He had meticulously listed various medications Tony needed and the dosage and times the meds should be administered in a note pad for Gibbs.

Captain Taylor had procured a stethoscope, blood pressure collar, digital ear thermometer and several small portable oxygen tanks as well as the various medications Tony's would require to complete his detox and to treat the subsequent withdrawal.

"It will be at least another three to four hours before the sedative wears off. He's likely to be rather disoriented and confused when he wakes and those broken ribs will be very painful. Keep him hydrated and remember, keep a note of his vitals so you can tell me when you call. I expect at least two calls a day, Jethro, and don't hesitate to call me if his breathing becomes laboured or distressed…oh dear."

"Duck, we've gotta go," Gibbs said understanding Ducky's reluctance to let Tony out of his sight.

"Of course," Ducky said, leaning back over Tony to double check that his seatbelt was secure. "We'll see you soon, my boy, hmmm?"

Straightening, his eyes met Gibbs' and his anger gave way to weary acceptance.

"Do drive carefully, Jethro, you have precious cargo aboard…keep him safe."

Abby moved in to give Tony a gentle hug. She kissed his forehead and rubbed her fingers through the stubble on his cheeks.

She closed the door and stood to look with glistening eyes at Gibbs across the roof of the car.

"Remember your promise, Gibbs, please bring him home."

"That's the plan, Abs," Gibbs replied as he climbed behind the wheel and drove from sight.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Ten**

It was an extremely nervous Jimmy Palmer who steered the coroner's van out of the Bethesda Naval Hospital parking lot and headed back towards the Navy yard. Although it was a mild day and the temperature in the van was maintained at a cool level, Jimmy felt the sweat trickle down his back and wiped his sweaty palms on his overalls. As he made the turn onto Rockville Pike, McGee's voice sounded through his earwig.

" Jimmy, are you okay?" he asked.

"Um…Yes, I'm fine," Jimmy replied nervously.

"O-kay, you do remember that you need to act naturally, right?" McGee continued.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"Because you're driving like Miss Daisy," McGee replied. "Relax, Jimmy. We have you in sight."

Aching with nervous tension, Jimmy eased down on the gas pedal and continued the trip at the prescribed speed. Twenty minutes later, Jimmy's anxiety levels increased substantially when a vehicle following two cars behind, mirrored his lane change.

Taking a deep breath, he convinced himself that everything was fine and the lane change was a coincidence. This was a popular route into the city, after all. He approached the intersection at Pennsylvania Ave and turned left, immediately flicking his eyes to the rear view mirror and seeing that same car follow him into the left turn. Another left on 26th and a right on L St and still the car followed.

"Err…guys? I think I have a problem. Someone appears to be following me," he said tentatively.

They were travelling towards the city and the midday traffic was building but neither Ziva nor McGee had spotted any vehicle tailing the van.

"Jimmy, we can't see anyone following you. Are you sure?" McGee asked, looking all around him for suspicious vehicles.

"I'm sure, guys," Jimmy said. "I first noticed it on Wisconsin and it's still with me. What should I do?"

"Keep driving, Jimmy," Ziva instructed, "We have you in sight. You will be taking the K St exit, yes?"

"Yes, I'm approaching it now."

"This is one of the main routes to the city, Jimmy. You must remain calm. If the vehicle follows you down the K St exit, slow down a little and see if you can give us a description of the car and the number of occupants," Ziva told him.

Jimmy negotiated the K St exit and his heart began pounding furiously as the car in question made the same turn.

"Um…guys…the car is still following me," Jimmy said in a tremulous voice. "It looks like a late model sedan, dark blue, maybe black in colour. I think the driver's a woman – tough looking and stony-faced. There's a big, dumb-looking goon sitting next to her. They look kinda like a poor man's Boris and Natasha."

The silence that followed was deafening until McGee spoke again.

"Palmer," he said calmly. "That's our car."

"What…no…that can't be you!" he checked his rear view mirror again, grimacing when he saw McGee waving. He returned the wave and laughed nervously.

"You know guys, there are those who believe that Boris and Natasha were crucial to the success of the Rocky and Bullwinkle show…not as integral as Rocky and Bullwinkle themselves, of course but important none the less."

"Palmer?"

"Yes, Ziva?"

"Shut up."

"Right…Shutting up."

**-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

The rest of the journey was uneventful until an accident on Rock Creek Parkway blocked all three lanes and banked the traffic back for half a mile. Waiting for the accident to be cleared and the parkway to reopen, Jimmy used the time frantically thinking of a way to convince Ziva that when he'd described her as tough looking and stony-faced, he meant it in the nicest possible way. McGee and Ziva were stopped three cars back and one lane over from the van, cautiously scanning all other cars and occupants in close proximity.

The sound of a motorcycle engine roared passed the agents as it weaved dangerously between the stopped cars. Reaching the coroner's van, the rider grabbed the handle and flung the back door open.

"Jimmy, get down!" McGee's anxious warning rang loudly through Palmer's earwig.

Momentarily confused, Palmer turned in his seat as the back door of the van was thrown open and a man in a motorcycle helmet appeared with a silenced pistol in his hands. The man, still seated on the motorcycle, fired four bullets into the pseudo-corpse on the gurney before pointing his weapon at Jimmy.

A shot rang out from behind and the gunman turned his attention to the two agents who were several cars away and yelling for startled drivers to remain in their cars. He revved the engine of the motorbike and was gone, leaving McGee and Ziva with no way to pursue him. They quickly ran to the front of the van and found Jimmy huddled on the seat. Ziva opened the driver's side door, noticing the young ME's face was white as a sheet.

"Jimmy, are you hurt?" she said as she assisted him to a seated position.

Palmer managed to shake his head and drew her into a reassuring hug. Taken a little by surprise, Ziva allowed him to rest his head on her shoulder as he drew in some deep breaths to restore his composure. When his breathing returned to normal he leaned back in his seat.

"Thanks, Ziva," he said, his face flushing with embarrassment from the close contact.

"You are okay, yes?" she asked.

"Yes, he…he didn't hurt me," Jimmy replied.

"I am glad he did not hurt you," Ziva said cupping his face gently as she leaned in to whisper in his ear. "For that is a pleasure I reserve for myself, the moment I find out who Boris and Natasha are."

A shiver of trepidation shimmied down Palmer's spine as he watched the trained assassin return to her own vehicle.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Ever mindful of the unconscious man lying insensate on the passenger seat, Gibbs drove at a much more decorous pace than usual. He frequently cupped his hand to Tony's forehead to check for rising fever and placed a palm to his chest to gauge his respirations. Twice during their journey, he had stopped the car in panic when he could not determine the movement of Tony's chest from the movement of the vehicle. A wave of relief crashed over him each time he realised the younger man's breathing was still steady and strong.

Not usually one to second-guess himself, the realisation and the weight of taking sole responsibility for Tony's continued safety didn't faze him at all. But the thought of Tony's painful and arduous recovery from a heroin addiction that was forced upon him, weighed heavily upon Gibbs' mind and he wondered whether it was emotion or strategy that led to his decision to take Tony from medical supervision.

Gibbs felt his stomach lurch and his grip tightened painfully on the steering wheel as he recalled an earlier conversation with Ducky. The ME had listed some of the many symptoms that Tony was likely to experience through his withdrawal: - Craving for heroin; loss of appetite, vomiting, nausea, severe headaches, possible hallucinations, irritability and mood swings, elevated heart rate, low blood pressure, stomach and leg cramps, aching joints, weakness, muscle spasms, runny nose, blurred vision, hyperventilation and profuse sweating.

The medications given to Tony during the Ultra Rapid Detox Treatment accelerated the onset of acute withdrawal symptoms while Tony was heavily sedated. By stopping the medication and sedation midway though the treatment, Tony would experience several days of painful withdrawal symptoms and residual effects for weeks, even months.

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind and concentrated on getting his agent through the next few days. He hoped to God that when Tony regained consciousness, he would tell them he had retrieved the information required to have the Graysons charged and convicted. Only when they were behind bars and his agent's safety was assured, would he bring Tony back and seek proper medical care.

Keeping one eye on the road Gibbs adjusted the air-conditioning as Tony's temperature rose again.

'_Hang on, Tony, we're nearly there.'_

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Once the traffic cleared, McGee had driven the coroner's van back to the Navy yard while a still shaken Palmer tried to calm himself. Ziva had phoned ahead to let the director know what had happened and when McGee reversed the van into the loading area of the NCIS morgue, Ducky and Abby were both there to greet them.

Abby wrapped Jimmy in one of her signature hugs, while Ducky tried to slip a blood pressure cuff around his upper arm.

"I'm fine, Doctor…really," Jimmy said, although his legs were still feeling a little shaky. "I think I'm getting used to staring down the barrel of a gun."

"Yes, well…you best let me be the judge of that, young man!" Ducky said, squeezing the ball to inflate the cuff and muttering furiously. "I told Jethro something like this would happen but he was in no mind to listen to anyone."

"Um…Doctor."

"He can be the most infuriating, pig-headed, bloody-minded…."

"Doctor Mallard."

"_If you don't mind, Mr Palmer, I'm speaking!_ Where was I? ...oh yes,...the best leaders in history have had the ability to listen above all else, to hear and to heed what your friends and colleagues have to say, to pay close attention to whatever is going on around you-…"

"Doctor!" Jimmy yelped.

"_Oh what is it Mr Palmer?_" Ducky admonished tersely.

"My arm!"

Ducky looked rather chagrined when he realised he had inflated the blood pressure cuff to the point where Palmer had started to lose all feeling in his arm. He released the air immediately.

"Well, why didn't you say something, Mr Palmer, I am not a mind reader, you know!" Ducky asked.

"I'm sorry Doctor…but I really am fine," Jimmy replied.

Ducky appraised him suspiciously for a moment.

"Yes, well…you appear to be quite alright, however, you have had a nasty shock and I feel a nice hot cup of tea is in order. Come along, my boy."

As Ducky led Jimmy back to his office, Ziva, McGee and Abby extracted two of the four bullets fired at the pseudo-body that had lodged in the wheel casing of the van.

"This is so cool!" Abby said. "Twice in one day I get to collect my own evidence."

"Do you have anything for us Abby?" Ziva asked.

"I do!" she said leading the agents back to her lab. "Firstly, I can tell you that the round fired at Tony this morning was definitely a .300 Manchester Magnum fired from an M24 Sniper Rifle. This type of rifle is predominantly used by US Army snipers. I double checked Evan Grayson's service record and there's definitely no record of his ever being trained as a sniper."

"Maybe he wasn't," McGee said. "Maybe he's just a naturally good shot."

"No," Ziva replied, shaking her head. "Not for a shot like that. Range of 60 yards, cross winds and through glass - this shooter was definitely trained by the military or by the police…maybe even by NCIS?"

The thought of a mole in their own agency sent a cold chill through each of them but it was McGee who broke the silence and continued.

"What about the gum found at the snipers nest?" he asked.

"The DNA from the gum is a positive match to the other gum samples found at the tenement house where Tony was held and the warehouse where the drug bust occurred. This guy is always chewing – he must have the jaw-pressure of a pit bull!" Abby speculated. "Although we can place this guy at all three crime scenes, there was no match on CODIS so we have no way of identifying him."

"Perhaps we should speak with Billy Matthews about his connection to Russell Anderson," Ziva suggested. "Abby, has Director Vance made the announcement to the staff about Tony's death yet."

Abby nodded sadly.

"Twenty minutes ago the Director called all department heads and team leaders together and told them about Tony's and Jack Kendall's deaths. He also sent an official email to everyone advising that Gibbs has retired to Mexico, effective immediately. So, remember, you'll have to look stunned and sad."

"With all that has happened recently, that will not be a problem," Ziva said solemnly.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Director Vance's PA replaced the handset of her intercom and looked inscrutably at the man pacing in front of her large desk. She'd seen the type many times before and failed to be intimidated or impressed by the three thousand dollar tailor made Italian suit and the two hundred dollar hair cut. Despite what her mother used to tell her, often 'clothes do _not_ make the man.'

This particular man was Cameron Scott, private attorney to Thomas Grayson. Having received a call from his prominent client this morning, Scott had spent just five minutes in private consultation with Grayson, before charging up the stairs and bombastically demanding to see the director.

"Director Vance will see you now," she said in a voice that was just a few degrees above frigid.

Scott opened the door and let himself in without knocking. He immediately noticed Vance had company, JAG Prosecutor, Commander Peter Barnes. Vance took a brief moment to introduce them.

"Is there something I can help you with, Scott?" Vance asked.

"As a matter of fact there is, Director," Scott replied curtly. "While my client is signing the paperwork for his release, you could explain to me why a prominent, well-respected member of the business community, was forced to spend the night in your flea-bitten holding cell."

Vance held his gaze for several tense moments before he responded calmly.

"Firstly, Counsellor, your client assaulted a federal officer yesterday and as a result he was taken into custody. Secondly, he was read his rights and when offered his one free phone call he refused and chose to stay the night of his own volition. Lastly, I can assure you that our holding cells are regularly cleaned and fumigated. In fact, the only vermin we ever seem to get down there tends to be of the two legged variety."

"My client would be the first to admit that he lost his temper with your Special Agent Gibbs and he struck him, but he claims Gibbs provoked him by slandering both his and his son's good names. I'm sure we can come to some form of agreement without having to resort to an embarrassing hearing," Scott said. "However, you have got to be mad if you think the other charge will stick – _suspicion of conspiracy to commit murder_? We're talking about Thomas Grayson not some two-bit Mafia boss."

Commander Barnes rose to his feet.

"Who do you think you're kidding, Counsellor?" Pete asked. "We know that you've already spoken with the magistrate and convinced him to waive bail and allow your client to be released on his own recognisance _despite_ the seriousness of the charges against him and being a prime flight risk candidate!"

"Flight risk? You think Thomas Grayson is going to walk away from his billion-dollar empire? Not likely," Scott sneered arrogantly. "Thomas Grayson is a very powerful man with very highly placed friends in the Pentagon, on the Hill and in the White House. You pursue this matter and drag his name through the mud on the word of a snivelling junkie and I will see to it that you can kiss your careers goodbye."

"Speaking of goodbye…I'm sure you remember the way out," Vance replied.

"See you at the hearing, Counsellor," Pete called as Cameron Scott left the office.

Vance and Pete exchanged a look. "He's right, Director, without the proof to back-up Matthew's allegations we've got nothing."

"Gibbs is confident that DiNozzo will have gathered enough evidence to put both Graysons away," Vance replied.

"Tony and I have been friends for years. We play basketball together and he was a wonderful support to my wife and I when we lost our little girl last year." Pete said. "He's damned good at his job and if the evidence exists, I'm sure he'd have found a way to get it. But I am concerned about the leak in this agency. If they find out that Tony's alive and where he is, what's to stop them killing him?"

"Gibbs," the Director answered succinctly.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Thirty minutes after Thomas Grayson's departure, Billy Matthews was transferred from the Interrogation Room to a holding cell. Agents "Doc" Rickard and Wells nodded a greeting as Ziva and McGee entered the cell to speak with Matthews.

Matthews confirmed that he had known Russell Anderson for over ten years. Although he and Anderson had attended a program at the Silver Springs Drug Rehab Centre together last year, Anderson was in fact, an Army buddy of Evan Grayson's.

Grayson, Anderson and a third man, Steve Denton, formed a strong friendship during their Army days and Anderson and Denton worked for the Graysons when they left the service.

"Do you know whether Denton had sniper training in the Army?" McGee asked.

Matthews shook his head.

"I doubt it. As far as I know Evan was the only one of them who had sniper training."

McGee and Ziva exchanged a confused look.

"Grayson's Army service record has no mention of him being trained as a sniper," Ziva said.

"No, it wouldn't," Matthews laughed. "It was another of Evan's disastrous screw-ups. He was a top rate sniper but couldn't keep his fists to himself. He had a run-in with his Master Sergeant and nearly beat him to death. There was a special court martial and Evan was dishonourably discharged. Only Uncle Thomas' money and connections kept him out of military prison."

"Dishonourably discharged? His service record says medically discharged," Ziva said.

"What can I tell you, Uncle Thomas has a lot of pull at the Pentagon," Matthews said.

McGee started gathering the file and the notes in front of him and guiding Ziva towards the door.

"McGee? What are you doing?" Ziva asked.

"We need to see Abby, _now!"_ McGee said impatiently pressing the elevator call button.

They hurried back into the lab and explained the new information to Abby. Ziva watched in confusion as Abby and McGee smiled widely at one another and Abby turned to her computer keyboard and began typing furiously.

"McGee, you will tell me what is happening _right now_ or I _will_ hurt you!" Ziva threatened.

"Okay, Abby is trying to match Grayson's DNA through CODIS," McGee said.

Ziva's brow furrowed.

"I do not understand, I thought she said we can usually only access US Armed Forces DNA profiles to identify a dead body."

"That's right," McGee replied.

"To the best of my knowledge Evan Grayson is not dead," Ziva stated impatiently.

"That's right, too!" McGee said still smiling.

Ziva stepped into McGee's personal space and lowered her voice menacingly.

"McGee, you are my partner, so I will give you 5 seconds to clearly explain what is going on or Abby will be using _your_ DNA sample to identify _your_ body."

McGee gulped audibly.

"All members of the US Armed Services who are convicted at a special court martial are ordered to provide DNA samples. These are immediately given to the FBI and are almost impossible to alter. We can only access US Armed Forces DNA profiles to identify a dead body OR when the suspect has been convicted at a Special Court Martial." McGee explained. "Now we can access Grayson's US Armed Forces DNA profile and when we get a match…"

"We will have irrefutable proof placing Evan Grayson at the scene, we will have motive and we will have means…we will have everything…except Evan Grayson," Ziva replied.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs veered the sedan off the dirt road and carefully negotiated the dense trees. He found a small clearing fifty yards from the house, parked the car and shut off the engine. Releasing his seatbelt, he turned to his right to check on Tony's breathing and was relieved to find it was still steady and strong.

He looked towards the small house, knowing that he needed to leave Tony alone until he could ensure that the house was deserted and safe. He silently climbed from the vehicle and with his Sig Sauer in his hand, made his way stealthily to secure the perimeter and the house. He was alarmed to find the door unlocked and stepped soundlessly through the kitchen and into the living room. He started as he saw the man seated on an over stuffed lounge chair, reading the newspaper.

"Dammit, what the hell are you doing here?" Gibbs cursed.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Eleven**

"Dammit, what the hell are you doing here?" Gibbs hissed.

The man casually folded his newspaper and looked at the former Marine with a bemused smile.

"I've gotta tell you, Leroy, I've had warmer greetings," Jackson Gibbs replied laconically, ignoring the handgun his son quickly holstered. "Didn't mean to give you a start, son."

"Just wasn't expecting anyone," Gibbs replied, glancing towards the car and eager to get Tony inside.

"Yeah…I can see that," Jackson said, his eyes narrowing in suspicion as he noted his son's uncharacteristic anxiety.

"I told you on the phone that I needed to get away."

"You also told me that you had some trouble," he said calmly. Following Gibbs' gaze to the car parked a distance from the house, Jackson's eyebrows rose in surprise as a thought occurred. "You know Leroy, if the trouble you're in, concerns a lady and a dirty weekend – I reckon this could be embarrassing for all three of us!"

Gibbs' face flushed with exasperation. He bit down hard, grinding his teeth and swallowing the harsh words before they could be spoken.

'_Why was it that after all these years, his father could still make him feel like a teenager?'_

"Tony's in the car, Dad. He's badly hurt and there are people trying to kill him."

Jackson's expression changed in an instant.

"Then bring the car around. I'll turn down the bed and meet you out front."

Gibbs did not drop his guard for an instant. As he jogged back to the car his eyes keenly scanned the surrounding area. Reassured by the rise and fall of Tony's chest, he drove the car to the front of the house where Jackson was already waiting.

"Good Lord!" Jackson muttered softly when he opened the passenger side door, saw the dark bruises on Tony's face and felt the heat of his fever.

Gibbs walked around the car and stood beside his father.

"If you can manage his feet, Dad, I'll take his head," Gibbs instructed. "Nice and easy, he's broken a few ribs."

With a considerable effort, they manoeuvred Tony's lanky frame out of the car and carried him to the only bedroom of the small house. Gently laying the unconscious man on the large double bed, they spent the next few moments recovering their breath before Gibbs went back to the car to bring in the medications and medical equipment and parked the car in the large garage next to Jackson's truck.

He returned to the bedroom and was joined by his father, carrying a basin of tepid water and some handtowels. He placed them on the bedside table and shook his head in disgust.

"What's wrong with those big city docs?" Jackson growled, gently wiping a cool towel over Tony's sweaty face. "This young fella should still be in the hospital."

"There were three attempts on his life in the hospital, Dad. He wasn't safe there."

"He's not even conscious, Leroy! You tellin' me that he signed himself out?"

"I signed him out…I'm Tony's next of kin."

Gibbs quickly turned his head to avoid the stunned look he instinctively knew had formed on his father's face. Taking the handtowel from his father's hand, he soaked it, wrung the water from it and placed it over Tony's brow.

Jackson schooled his features.

"You're his next of kin? Where's the boy's family?"

"Not interested."

"Even now, when he's hurt and in trouble?"

"Even now," Gibbs confirmed.

"Well...you were always one for bringing home sick or injured strays, Leroy."

"Don't worry, Dad. I won't ask you if I can keep this one."

Jackson walked to the bedroom door and looked back at his son rifling through the medical equipment to find the digital thermometer and blood pressure cuff.

"I reckon you've already decided that," Jackson said quietly as he headed to the kitchen to make coffee.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

McGee sat at his desk, a picture of concentration as his fingers flew over his keyboard and he searched the security and traffic authority tapes. He was looking for any vehicles leaving the building across the road from Bethesda hospital just after the shot was fired through Tony's window.

His eyes widened when he checked the time-marker on the tape – 0607 - and saw a dark blue 2007 Chevrolet Avalanche leaving the building. Fast-forwarding through the tape, he confirmed that the Avalanche was the only vehicle that left the building between 0545 and 0659. Switching to the traffic authority tapes he watched the Avalanche turn right from South Dr to Rockville Pike. The front registration plate had been partially obscured to prevent identification and only the number 4 was visible. McGee switched to the next traffic camera 2 miles further down the road at the intersection at Cedar Lane & Rockville Rd. He viewed the tape for another 15 minutes – much longer than it should take the Avalanche to drive the 2 mile distance – but the Avalanche never passed and had obviously turned off or parked in any one of a huge number of private, business and industrial complexes located in that area.

Sighing in disappointment at yet another dead end, he put a BOLO out on the car and checked DMV records. He blanched when the list of dark blue 2007 Chevrolet Avalanches in the tri-state area with the number 4 in their registration plate, numbered over 200. They just didn't have the manpower at the moment to contact each one.

"We just can't catch a break," he muttered.

Ziva had contacted the Army Human Resources Command and Army CID regarding the falsifying of Evan Grayson's army service record. She initially met with some resistance as the army tried to keep the matter "in-house" but Director Vance made a few well-placed calls and Ziva was finally able to acquire the information they needed. Although someone had gone to considerable trouble to alter Grayson's personnel file, the US Army mainframe computer confirmed his attendance at Fort Denning Army Sniper School, his attachment to a Sniper Unit and his subsequent dishonourable discharge from the US Army.

Agent Balboa rounded the petition into the bullpen and stopped beside McGee's desk.

"I didn't expect to see you here," McGee said. "I thought your team was on stand down."

"We are," Balboa replied flatly, "but I wanted to check on Doc – he refuses to leave Matthews until the assignment is complete. Says he wants to see it through for Jack."

McGee lowered his eyes.

"Jack was a good agent," he said softly. "Well thought of."

"And so was Tony. He'll be missed," Balboa replied. "Any new leads?"

"Well, we've been check-…"

"McGee." Ziva interrupted. "Abby needs to see us now!"

"Er…I was just telling-…"

"Now, McGee, it is important," Ziva urged.

Balboa looked hopeful.

"Does Abby have a new lead?" he asked.

"I am sorry, Agent Balboa, we have to go. Come McGee, Abby is waiting."

Looking embarrassed, McGee shrugged his shoulders apologetically.

"Sorry, man. We'll talk later."

They entered the elevator and waited for the doors to close before Ziva flicked the power switch off and rounded on her partner.

"What are you doing, McGee? Have you forgotten that there is a mole at NCIS?"

McGee looked surprised.

"You can't possibly think it's Balboa! He's been with NCIS for years. His team just lost an agent."

"That does not exclude him from suspicion, McGee," Ziva replied.

"The man was injured when the safe house was hit, Ziva," McGee said. "Why would they shoot him if he was feeding them information?"

"For the same reason CWO Farrell was killed, to tie up loose ends."

McGee nodded.

"You're right, the Boss said trust nobody."

"Come, perhaps Abby really does have a new lead for us," Ziva said while flicking the power switch back on.

**-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

The unusual silence in the lab struck them immediately as they walked towards the Goth forensic scientist.

"No more Sinatra, Abs?" McGee asked.

"No, we're having a little break, aren't we guys?" she said to the oblivious goldfish. "I've discovered that too much Cranky Frankie makes for a Crabby Abby."

"What've you got for us Abs?" McGee asked.

"Ooh, McGee, very Gibbs-like," Abby cooed watching McGee almost preen at the comparison.

"I have a positive match from the gum to Evan Grayson's DNA, placing him at the warehouse where the drugs were seized, the tenement house where Tony was held and the sniper's nest on the building across from the hospital," Abby replied.

"Anything on the bullets that killed Agent Kendall?" Ziva asked.

"The bullets we removed from the back of the coroner's van and the bullets that killed Agent Kendall, positively match bullets from the unsolved murder of a drug-dealer here in DC six months ago. Metro PD had a suspect but the witness mysteriously disappeared and the case went cold."

"Who was the suspect?" McGee asked.

"Steven Neil Denton," Abby read from her report.

McGee and Ziva exchanged another look.

"What?" Abby asked.

"Denton is an associate of Evan Grayson's from his time in the Army," Ziva replied. "Do you have his last known address, Abby?"

"Thought you'd never ask!" Abby smiled as she peeled the "post it note" from her computer file and handed the address to Ziva.

"You get the gear, I'll get the car," McGee said as he and Ziva rushed towards the door.

"Guys wait!" Abby yelled stopping them both in their tracks. She looked at them anxiously and sucked her bottom lip. "Have you heard anything, has he called you?"

"Not yet, Abs," McGee replied. "He'll call when they're settled."

"I am sure they are safe Abby," Ziva said with more hopefulness than certainty.

"Please, please be careful!" Abby stressed.

"We will," they replied together as raced for the elevator.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Having made Tony as comfortable as possible Gibbs walked outside the house and carefully scanned the area for any signs of movement. The property had belonged to Jackson's business partner and Gibbs' namesake, Leroy, who had enjoyed the peace and quiet of the remote location 30 miles from Stillwater.

Situated on top of a steep rise, the small house provided an excellent view of the area and of any vehicles approaching. The only access to the house was by way of a private road and Gibbs had taken measures to ensure that he had not been followed. As the property was still in Leroy's name, there was a good chance that it wouldn't be connected to Gibbs. Still, he would not leave anything to chance and would continue to perform frequent perimeter checks, day and night, to ensure their safety.

He smelled the enticing aroma of strong rich blend before he'd opened the front door. His father was seated at the kitchen table with two steaming mugs of coffee in front of him.

"Thought you could use one of these," Jackson said. "Then you can tell me how you and that young fella got into this mess."

Gibbs glanced into the bedroom and saw that Tony was still sleeping. The furrowed brow and a slight movement of his left arm indicated that it would not be too long before he woke to the nightmare of heroin withdrawal.

He sat with his father and scrubbed his weary eyes with his hands. He took a long draught of his coffee and proceeded to tell his father how the assignment had gone to hell and how they found themselves in this deadly predicament.

Gibbs was unsure how his father would react. Although Jackson Gibbs was worldly and life-educated, drug smuggling, corruption and murder had never come to Stillwater on such a large scale. Several moments of contemplative silence passed before Jackson finally spoke and, not for the first time in their lives, father and son found themselves with opposing views.

"You didn't think this through at all did you, son?" Jackson admonished. "You set your mulish mind on getting the boy out of the hospital and you didn't stop to think about anything else. This shouldn't be about you, Leroy, it's about Tony and his safety!"

"I was thinking about his safety when I got him the hell out of there!" Gibbs defended angrily.

"Really? Then tell me son, how on earth were you figuring on tending to his needs and keeping watch at the same time, 'cause from where I'm sitting, it seems to me that both things are going to require round the clock attention?"

The truthful words struck painfully as Gibbs' anger out-wrestled his guilt.

"I didn't ask you to come here!" he yelled, infused by a rush of anger.

"You're my son!" Jackson yelled back. "You didn't have to ask!"

The muffled yell and nonsensical words coming from the bedroom drew the immediate attention of both men and they quickly went to his side. Tony was caught in a drug-induced panic. His unfocussed eyes were barely open and were flicking blindly around the unfamiliar room. Confused and disoriented, he started to breathe in short harsh breaths that must have been painful with his broken ribs.

Tony felt the strong hands on him, holding him and pushing him down. He gritted his teeth against the pain exploding in his chest and head. He opened his eyes again and the room blurred around him as he tensed against the hands that held him. He crushed his eyes shut against the constant waves of nausea assailing him.

"Tony, you with me?" Gibbs asked. "Hey, talk to me?

"Go to hell!" Tony slurred breathlessly. "I won't talk…won't tell you anything."

"Hey, DiNozzo!" Gibbs tried to break through the confusion but Tony's fears of another beating and heroin injection were overwhelming and his arms began to flail.

"Tony, look at me," Gibbs ordered gruffly, holding Tony's face between his hands.

"No…no more!"

The younger man recoiled at his touch. In his mind he was still lying on the putrid mattress in the tenement building and fighting to stay alive. As they struggled to hold his still his incoherent shouts became mumbles, the thrashing calmed and the serenity of unconsciousness beckoned and he sank gratefully back into it.

After a few moments of tension-filled silence, Jackson picked up the basin of water and walked to the doorway.

"He's still burning up, I'll get some fresh water," he said, giving his son a disapproving look and although he never said the words, Gibbs clearly heard the unspoken 'I told you so'.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

"…for pity's sake Mr Palmer, are you sure you're not overreacting," Ducky said trying to quell his exasperation.

"With all due respect, Doctor, it's difficult to overreact when the words garrotted and castrated are used in such a threatening manner," Jimmy replied.

"Oh come now, Mr Palmer, I'm sure after what happened to young Anthony, our dear Ziva was just trying to provide a little merriment. I've always found that a little light hearted jocularity helps to create a tighter bond between colleagues." Ducky said. "Did you try apologising to her for your earlier indiscretion?"

"I did, Doctor!" Jimmy said emphatically. "Not only did I apologise for calling her stony-faced and tough-looking but I even complimented her shoes!"

"And….?"

Jimmy gulped audibly at the recollection.

"And…she told me that if I come near her again for a non-work related matter, she would truss me like a turkey and feed me my own ears!"

"Oh my!" Ducky exclaimed. "I think, Mr Palmer, it may be wise for you to give the lass a wide berth for a day or two!"

"I was thinking maybe a few decades," Jimmy muttered.

The elevator sounded and Agent Balboa entered the Autopsy room.

"Agent Balboa, I'm surprised to see you here," Ducky said. "I was told your team had been placed on stand down for a week."

"I…I'd just like some time with Jack before the funeral home arrives if that's okay. I'll just take a minute."

Ducky's eyes softened with empathy for the team leader.

"Of course…take your time. Mr Palmer, if you would be so kind to assist Agent Balboa?"

"Certainly Doctor," Jimmy replied soberly.

He led Balboa to the morgue drawers and waited until he signalled his readiness with a nod of his head, then he opened the drawer and drew back the sheet. Leaving Balboa to his private thoughts, Jimmy stepped back against the wall. Several moments later, Balboa pulled the sheet back over his dead agent's face and indicated to Jimmy that he was finished. As Jimmy closed the morgue drawer Balboa asked quietly.

"While I'm down here saying goodbye, do you think I could see Tony?"

Jimmy's mind swam as he tried to think of a suitable response.

"Umm…Tony? You want to see Tony?"

"Yeah, I do. We never worked on the same team but we've both been here a long time. I liked him a lot." Balboa replied.

"Of course." Jimmy said. "Er…it's just that…well, you see…I think that…"

"What my young colleague is having difficulty articulating is that Anthony was killed by a rifle shot to the head and, I'm afraid he's in a particularly distressing state," Ducky explained. "We have been instructed by Director Vance, that no one is to see him. Perhaps it's best to remember him as he was – a fun-loving and dashing young man."

Balboa looked sickened.

"Must be why Gibbs quit right away. I heard he was there when Tony was killed."

"Suffice to say that Jethro could not bear the thought of losing Anthony on his watch," Ducky replied choosing his words carefully. "Now, the director stood your team down so you could rest. I suggest you go home and do just that."

Agent Balboa nodded his head at Palmer and the elderly ME and walked towards the elevator as Jimmy and Ducky exchanged a relieved look.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

The sun was setting gloriously, painting the horizon a vibrant pink and orange as it disappeared behind the nearby mountains. Gibbs took a moment to admire it and to breathe deeply in the rapidly cooling air as he finished another perimeter check. He walked back into the kitchen bringing a gust of cold wind with him. Shrugging out of his coat he hung it on the coat-rack and leaned the rifle against the wall within easy reach.

Jackson was seated in the living room, reading Ducky's copious notes on the use and dosage of various medications and the effects of heroin withdrawal. Gibbs took two steps towards the bedroom before he was halted by his father's voice.

"I just checked on him, he's still sleeping. Temperature's up again, I wrote it in the notepad beside the bed," Jackson said, the displeasure still obvious in his voice.

Gibbs nodded his head and continued into the bedroom to check for himself. Even without touching him, the blushing cheeks were evidence of a rising fever. Shortly after he'd fallen into a fitful sleep the younger man had begun to tremble and the linen beneath him was twisted and damp with sweat. Jackson's voice sounded from just behind Gibbs' shoulder.

"He needs fluids son, we'll have to wake him. I've got some ice chips in the freezer."

Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed and gently shook the younger man's shoulder.

"Tony? Tony, open your eyes," Gibbs encouraged.

Consciousness was returning incrementally and Tony swallowed against his burning, sore throat. He could hear his name being called but turned his head away from the voice trying to lure him from the comfortable, warm, darkness.

"Hey, DiNozzo! Open your eyes and talk to me," Gibbs urged.

He struggled to lift heavy eyelids and tried to focus on the shape beside him as it wavered in and out of focus. He barely recognised his own voice as it rasped.

"Boss?"

Gibbs released a deep relieving breath. It had been almost 46 hours since they'd found Tony in the abandoned tenement house and this was the first sign of recognition.

"Take it easy, I got you," Gibbs replied.

As cognisance slowly returned the pain of muscle spasms and tremors racked his body, and he tried to curl into himself. He folded his arms across his ribs and abdomen, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for the pain to recede to a manageable level.

Jackson returned with a cup of ice chips.

"Well young fella," he said with thinly disguised concern. "It's good to see you awake. You think you can handle some ice chips?"

Tony shook his head once and then closed his eyes and pleaded silently for his head to stop throbbing. He wondered fleetingly where he was and what Jackson Gibbs was doing at his bedside but found it too difficult to maintain lucid thoughts.

"Tony," Gibbs said. "Take the ice chips."

The younger man managed only three small spoonfuls before sleep took him again.

Reining in his concern, Gibbs consoled himself with the thought that Tony had recognised them. He took Tony's vitals and jotted them down in preparation for his call to Ducky, then readied a syringe of Naltrexone to lessen the heroin craving and injected it into Tony's picc line. He was watching his agent intently, when Jackson's hand squeezed his shoulder and drew him from his musings.

"We'll need to wake him again soon and give him some more fluids," Jackson said. "Supper's warming in the oven, we best eat it now. I've got an feeling this is going to be a long night."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Twelve**

"Jethro, I've been waiting for your call," Ducky said, not mincing words or wasting time on pleasantries. "How is Anthony?"

"He woke up a few times, just for a few minutes," Gibbs replied pacing around the small living room and keeping his voice low in deference to his sleeping agent. "Fever's not going down."

"Don't worry about his fever unless it consistently stays at 103 or over. It will come and go during these withdrawals but it is imperative that you keep him well hydrated."

"Easier said than done, Duck, he vomits it back as fast as he gets it – even water," Gibbs told him, before bracing himself for the doctor's anticipated reply.

"That is exactly the reason Anthony should be in the hospital. Dehydration is a very serious and potentially life-threatening condition," Ducky admonished sternly through the phone.

Gibbs felt another sickening pang of guilt upon hearing Ducky's words but he defaulted to counterattack.

"It's done, Doctor, I need you to tell me what to do now - you can extract your pound of flesh when I get him home."

They spent the next few minutes reviewing Tony's vitals and other withdrawal symptoms, all of which had presented in various stages of severity, in recent hours. Chills, tremors, vomiting, severe headaches and muscle spasms, disorientation and nightmares. Gibbs carefully wrote any changes to the medication or dosages in his notepad.

"Jethro, does he remember what happened?" Ducky asked hopefully. "Does he have any information that will lead to the arrest of these vile men, so we can bring him home?"

"He remembers the beatings and being drugged but he hasn't stayed awake long enough to tell me anything. As soon as he does, I'll let you know," Gibbs said. "Let me speak to Ziva or McGee."

"They are out following a lead at the moment. I'll have them phone you upon their return," Ducky replied. "Don't forget to call Abigail, the poor girl's been beside herself since you left."

"I'll call her now."

"Jethro…please do not hesitate to call me should you need my assistance," Ducky said. "Whilst the doctor in me abhors your decision to remove Anthony from the hospital…the friend in me understands completely."

"Thanks Duck," Gibbs replied gratefully and the call disconnected.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

The residential hotel where Steven Denton lived was in only slightly better condition than the abandoned tenement house where they had located Tony. McGee and Ziva climbed the dingy stairwell to the second floor and knocked on the door. They could see light shining from the apartment within.

"NCIS. Open the door Denton," McGee called.

The silence of the room was broken by the sound of a window being rapidly forced open.

"Kick in the door," Ziva yelled.

McGee leaned back and concentrated his energy into a hefty kick to the side of the doorknob. The pain reverberated up his leg but the flimsy door splintered and swung open. The apartment was a one-room concern and the agents cleared it swiftly before running to the window and seeing Denton climbing down the fire escape to the alley below.

"I'll follow him," McGee said. "Meet me in the alley."

Ziva turned and sprinted for the door as McGee made his way out of the window. Knowing the fire escape provided some protection Denton ignored McGee's second command to stop. He dropped the final six-feet to the ground and disappeared into the dimly lit alley.

Dropping silently from the fire escape, McGee winced at the pain from his sore ankle and walked cautiously down the alleyway toward the large commercial trash bins. He cursed silently that he hadn't thought to bring his flashlight as he cautiously checked between the bins and moved further down the alleyway. His heart froze as he heard the click from a handgun and felt the cold barrel press firmly into his temple.

"Don't move," the male voice growled from behind him. "Drop your gun and kick it away – slowly!"

McGee complied, moving slowly and kicking his Sig out of reach.

"Just take it easy, Denton. No one has to get hurt."

Denton looked down the alley toward the street.

"Where is your partner? I know there were two of you."

"I am here."

Ziva's unexpected appearance startled both men.

"Drop your weapon or I'll blow his head off," Denton snarled. "Do it now!"

"Stay calm," Ziva told Denton. "I will do as you ask."

Holding her left hand palm out, she crouched and placed her Sig at her feet and kicked it away. She watched Denton eye her predatorily from head to toe, obviously underestimating her small frame.

Even in the half-light, Ziva clearly saw the moment when Denton's eyes darkened and his finger tightened on the trigger. In one swift and smooth motion, she removed the pistol tucked into the small of her back and fired. McGee's eyes closed tightly as the bullet passed close to his head and struck Denton in the forehead above the left eye, killing him instantly.

McGee's legs turned to rubber and he fell heavily to his knees, breathing deeply to quell the bile burning at the back of his throat. Ziva was quickly by his side.

"McGee, are you okay?" she asked worriedly.

"I…I think so," he stammered. "That was so close…I felt the heat of the bullet pass right by my head."

She offered her hand and helped him to his feet.

"You should be thankful it was me taking the shot and not Tony, or you would be missing an ear," she quipped. "We should call this in and process Denton's apartment."

Twenty minutes later, Ducky and Palmer had collected Denton's body from the alleyway and Ziva and McGee returned to the apartment. It was a sparsely furnished affair with a small kitchenette in the corner and a shared bathroom down the hall. It smelled of stale alcohol and sweat. The agents donned their latex gloves and began to search for anything to assist them with their investigation.

Within moments, they located ten thousand dollars cash, hidden in the wardrobe and a silenced handgun. The items were bagged and tagged and taken back to the Navy yard.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

After checking on Tony, Jackson stoked up the fire in the fireplace and resumed his seat on the lounge chair. He noted the concern on his son's face as he completed his satellite call. Gibbs' eyes were red-rimmed from worry and too many sleepless nights.

"Everything all right, son?" he asked.

"That was McGee," Gibbs replied. "There's nothing on the whereabouts of Evan Grayson and still nothing concrete to tie Thomas Grayson into any of this mess."

"You still think Tony knows something that will lock this case up for you?"

Gibbs scrubbed at his tired eyes.

"We'll see how he is in the morning. Tonight, he needs sleep."

Jack looked quizzically at his son.

"I know you Leroy, and I know you'd put your own life on the line for just about anyone…he's not just anyone is he?"

"He's my senior field agent, Dad, a member of my team."

"I'm sorry, son, but that dog just won't hunt. What I've seen goes a whole lot deeper than team leader to subordinate. There's no shame in admitting you care a whole lot about the boy."

Gibbs' eyes met his father's and his frustration softened to resignation.

"Let's just say he's the pesky kid brother that you and Mom never gave me."

Jackson's eyes sparkled and he grinned wickedly.

"Not for want of trying, son, not for want of trying."

He grabbed the rifle and his coat.

"You rest up a little, I'll check around outside."

As Jackson closed the door behind him, Gibbs allowed himself a wry grin. He closed his eyes and realised how surprisingly grateful he was for his father's presence at the cabin. Upon receiving Gibbs' brief call and hearing that he "had some trouble" Jackson had made arrangements for his good friends Sam and Mavis Newbury, to look after his store and he had immediately headed to the cabin to help. Despite years lost to their estrangement and the awkwardness that still existed as they tried to bury their pride and heal their rift, his father did not hesitate to potentially put himself in harms way for him.

Then there was Tony. As much as Gibbs hated to admit it, had he been alone, he would never have been able to watch over Tony and continue the perimeter checks as vigilantly. Jackson had sat patiently by Tony's bedside and coaxed the younger man into drinking vital fluids. He had assisted, without a hint of protest, to change the bedding and clothing when Tony's rebellious stomach vomited those vital fluids time after time and Jackson calmed Tony with soothing inanities and platitudes while his abdomen and muscles painfully contracted and were forced into spasm. Though there was no doubting that Jackson had formed a genuine affection for the younger man, Gibbs knew that his father's efforts were as much for his sake as for Tony's and he was humbled by his father's strength of character.

"Get off me!"

Gibbs was on his feet and running for the bedroom as the yell became more insistent.

"_Get off me!_"

Tony's voice rose in alarm as Gibbs burst into the bedroom automatically flicking the safety off his Sig Sauer. He scanned the room and checked outside the window before turning in Tony's direction. The younger man's glassy eyes were wide with panic as he drew his long legs up and tried to wrap his arms around them.

"Get 'em off me, get 'em away!"

Gibbs frantically followed Tony's line of sight but saw nothing.

"Take it easy," he said calmly, slowly approaching the younger man like he was approaching a dangerous animal. "There's nothing there…you're hallucinating!"

Tony kicked his legs in the direction of his unseen assailants.

_"They're on me!"_ he yelled. "_Get them off me, Boss, get them off!"_

He sat on the bed and grasped Tony's face firmly between his hands.

"Tony…look at me!" he ordered. When the younger man did not immediately respond he spoke louder. "Look at me!"

He waited until the younger man's unfocussed, green eyes met his unwavering blue gaze and he spoke calmly yet firmly.

"There's nothing there, Tony, you were hallucinating. Do you understand? There's nothing there, you're safe!"

Gibbs watched as the fear and panic slowly dissipated from Tony's eyes and an almost visible wave of fatigue crashed over him.

"Gone now," Tony slurred softly as his eyelids drooped. "They'll come back, Boss, always come back.

Gibbs eased his agent back against the pillow; he closed his eyes and was asleep an instant later.

"Another nightmare?" Jackson asked from the doorway.

"Hallucination," Gibbs sighed. "He was watching something; could see it, feel it."

"Any idea what it was?"

"Rats. He hates them." Gibbs said. "Place we found him was crawling with 'em."

"He's sleeping now and it's quiet outside. I'll make up the couch; you should grab some sleep while you can. I'll wake you if there's trouble," Jackson said, leaving the room before his son could protest.

As Gibbs pulled the comforter up to Tony's chin, his mind cast back to the blue isolation room a few years ago. He had seen this man tap into some unimaginably deep core of strength and beat the pneumonic plague. This would be a painful and mammoth battle but he had no doubt that Tony's courage and strength of will, would win out in the end.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Evan Grayson breathed a sigh of relief when his father answered the secure phone in his den.

"Dad? Are you okay?"

"Evan, I'm fine son, just fine," Grayson Sr replied.

"You heard about Russell?" Evan asked.

"Yes, I did. I'm sorry son, I know you were close."

"I arranged for Russ to take out DiNozzo in the hospital. He screwed it up somehow and got himself killed. I had to finish it myself," Evan said.

"DiNozzo's dead?"

"Yeah, he's dead," Evan replied smugly. "Steve was supposed to take out Billy at the NCIS safe house but he hasn't checked in."

"I'm sorry, Evan," Grayson told him. "There was a problem at the safe house and a fed was killed. Billy's still alive."

"And Steve?"

"Shot and killed last night by the feds."

Evan swore viciously, cursing the day he laid eyes on Anthony DiNozzo and wishing he could have inflicted an agonising drawn out his death.

"Dad, if Billy's still alive he can cause a lot of trouble for us," Evan said. "If you can tell me where he is I'll finish this once and for all."

"NCIS are holding him under triple guard in their own holding cell. There's no way we'll get to him there."

"But Dad, he could ruin us."

"Evan, listen to me. Billy Matthews is a junky with a list of priors. My attorney will carve him up," Thomas Grayson smugly replied. "I will match my reputation against his any day of the week and twice on Sunday. The pre-trial hearing for my conspiracy to murder charge will be dismissed due to lack of tangible evidence."

"What about the feds, Dad? They'll be hell-bent on getting us now."

"My source at NCIS said the whole agency's in disarray. Two agents dead and the lead agent in the investigation turned in his badge and retired to Mexico. It's you I'm worried about son. The feds have enough evidence to get you life in prison. We stick with the plan. We'll wait until the hearing and get you out of the country to our Cayman Island estate. I'll join you after the hearing."

"But Dad, the hearings three weeks away. If the feds get lucky they'll find me before the hearing."

"Leave that to me," Thomas Grayson replied.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Gibbs rose from the lounge chair he'd placed beside Tony's bed and winced as he felt the protest of his muscles. He crossed to the window and looked out noting that the sun was not yet up, but the sky was beginning to lighten. He opened the window to allow the crisp morning breeze to enter and freshen up the room, still pungent with the stench of illness, and sweat.

He heard the gentle snoring from the living room, pleased that his father was finally resting, and he turned back to the bed to check his agent. A night of hallucinations and vomiting had drawn on his every reserve and the pre-dawn hours of chills, fevers and painful muscle spasms had drained him completely. Gibbs was surprised when Tony's eyes fluttered open.

"Boss?" he said quietly.

"It's early. Go back to sleep."

"Can't. Gotta hit the head," Tony mumbled.

Gibbs walked to the side of the bed and pulled back the comforter. Tony wrapped his arms around himself to ward off the chill and to ease the sharp pain in his chest.

"Easy. Take it slow, you're nursing a couple of broken ribs," Gibbs directed as he carefully supported his agent's shoulders and back and felt the fine tremors of pain and exertion beneath his hands.

Tony shut his eyes, gritted his teeth against the nausea and sucked in a lungful of air as Gibbs assisted him to his feet. Placing a steadying arm behind Tony's back, Gibbs allowed him to lean heavily against him as they took slow, staggering steps towards the adjoining bathroom. Gibbs hovered until he was certain Tony wasn't going to fall on his ass then he left him to attend to his business in private. The fact that Tony had accepted Gibbs' help without complaint or embarrassment was further proof of how weak and unwell the younger man was feeling.

By the time they made the return trip from the bathroom, Tony was exhausted. His t-shirt was stained in sweat and he was trembling from pain and fatigue. Gibbs eased him back onto the bed in a seated position and grabbed a fresh t-shirt from Tony's bag. Once, he'd helped him into the new shirt, he took his vitals and prepared his medication, including another injection of Naltrexone. A few more deep breaths to counter the pain in his chest and Tony was lying back in the bed.

"Where are we?" he asked Gibbs wearily.

"Pennsylvania," Gibbs replied holding a glass of water to Tony's lips and silently urging him to drink. "We're safe here."

"Your dad's place?" Tony asked, taking a few tentative mouthfuls and feeling the pull of exhaustion and sleep.

"Not in Stillwater," Gibbs said. "You think you can eat?"

Tony screwed his eyes shut as his stomach clenched painfully and threatened defiance at the thought of food. When the pain subsided enough for him to speak, he replied.

"Maybe later," he replied, seeing through Gibbs' thinly disguised concern. "How bad?"

"You'll make it," Gibbs replied knowing exactly where Tony's question was leading.

He glanced at the syringe on the bedside table. "Methadone?"

"Naltrexone," Gibbs replied.

"Shit," Tony gasped before schooling his features.

He knew enough about drug dependency to know that the detox and ongoing maintenance programs could be as physically punishing and painfully gruelling as the dependency itself. There was no quick cure – and Tony fleetingly wondered whether he had the strength to make it back.

As if reading his thoughts, Gibbs placed his hand on Tony's shoulder and repeated the words he'd said, as Tony lay unconscious at the hospital.

"You can do this, Tony," he encouraged softly. "It won't be easy, but this will _not_ beat you."

Tony gave a barely perceptible nod in return.

"Sleep," Gibbs said watching as Tony's eyelids drooped heavily then stayed shut. "We'll talk later."

If he needed anymore evidence of the seriousness of Tony's condition, it had just happened in front of him, because when it came to his own health, Tony was never one to obey orders so readily.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Director Vance paced impatiently from his desk to the conference table in his office. Already seated at the table were Abby, Ziva, McGee and Ducky.

"It looks like Commander Barnes has been delayed," Vance said. "Let's begin, I'll brief JAG later. Miss Scuito?"

"Yes, Leon?" Abby replied, her green eyes shining with innocence.

The director's return glare brought Abby's familiarity to an abrupt halt.

"Don't tell me," Abby said with a grimace. "It's still too soon for Leon?"

Vance nodded abruptly but remained silent.

"Okay, _Director_, as you know, we have already proven beyond doubt that Evan Grayson was at all three crime scenes. His military sniper training makes him a likely candidate for the attempt on Tony's life at the hospital," Abby replied. "I also matched the weapon found in Steven Denton's apartment to the bullets that killed Agent Kendall and the slugs we removed from the coroner's van."

"David?"

"McGee and I found a large amount of cash in the apartments of Denton and Anderson. They are non-sequential bills and not traceable. Army CID is looking into how Evan Grayson's personnel records could be altered so drastically and Metro PD are assisting in the search for the dark coloured Chevrolet Avalanche that we believe Grayson was driving after he shot at Tony in the hospital. Nothing yet."

"McGee?" Vance said.

"Billy Matthews has spoken with Commander Barnes several times over the past few days. He has provided a list of names of five people he alleges Thomas Grayson had murdered during the past 9 years. According to the commander, three of the murder cases went cold due to lack of evidence or evidence disappearing from a Metro Police evidence locker and in the other two cases, there could be no conviction as the witnesses disappeared and were never located."

Vance shook his head.

"Commander Barnes is right. Regardless of what he knows or what he has seen, Matthews is not a strong witness. Grayson's attorney will have a field day with him. Have you completed the reviews on the bank accounts of everyone who works in this building?"

"Yes, Sir," McGee replied. "There was nothing unusual and no deposits with a similar trace line to those in CWO Farrell's account."

"And you're sure you checked everyone?" Vance asked.

"Everyone, Sir," McGee confirmed. "Every agent, janitor, secretary, security guard, scientist, even your accounts, Sir…er…not that I…er…expected to find anything…er untoward…Sir. Although, if I may, Director, you really should consider transferring the excess funds in your checking account into a fixed term account that would yield a much higher interest rate and…"

McGee's head lurched forward from the force of Abby's head slap.

"Thank you, Miss Scuito," Vance said.

"You're welcome, Sir," Abby replied as McGee continued to rub the back of his head.

"So we're no closer to finding our mole. I don't need to remind you to beware of what you say, where you say it and to whom you say it. Watch your backs! What progress have you made with tracing the deposits to CWO Farrell's bank account?"

"Er…Director, to be totally honest, with Gibbs and Tony away, I haven't really had the opportunity to spend too much time on it. I can tell you that it uses an extremely intricate and sophisticated network of international servers that bounce these payments all over the world. I was planning on working on it straight after the meeting."

"If you need any help, let me know, I'll help you myself," Vance replied.

"Thank you, Sir."

"So, with the preliminary hearing just three weeks away, we are no closer to finding Evan Grayson and the testimony from Billy Matthews is unreliable at best. What have we heard from Gibbs and DiNozzo?"

"If I may, Director," Ducky replied. "I spoke with Special Agent Gibbs last night. Anthony remains desperately ill and although his vital signs have improved slightly, he has only been conscious for several minutes at a time. When we spoke, Agent Gibbs had been unable to question him at length about his ordeal. I must tell you, Anthony's recovery is likely to take weeks, if not months. Even if he has vital case breaking information against the Graysons, he may not be well enough to testify in three weeks."

"We won't have to wait long to find out," Commander Barnes said as he walked through the door into the director's office. "Excuse me, Director, I'm sorry I'm late. I've just come from the District Court. Grayson certainly has friends in high places – Judge Samuels has moved the hearing forward."

"How much time do we have?" Vance asked.

"The hearing is set to commence in 5 days."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

A/N:- Thank you for reading and for the wonderfully encouraging reviews. L


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Thirteen**

A string of loud curses erupted from Gibbs' mouth as he threw the satellite phone contemptuously against the cushions on the couch. Jackson had just exited the bedroom and closed the door gently behind him so that Tony would not be disturbed.

"I'll take a wild stab in the dark and say that wasn't good news," he said

Gibbs glanced quickly at the closed bedroom door and nodded his head towards it.

"How is he?" Gibbs asked.

Jackson ran both hands through his hair and expelled a long breath, reflecting on the long hours they had spent at Tony's bedside. The younger man had alternated between night sweats and chills, painful abdominal cramps and muscle spasms, severe headaches, nausea and nightmares and God only knows what else.

"He's had his meds and he's finally sleeping - though I don't know for how long," Jackson replied. "If the stomach cramps and muscle spasms don't wake him it's the vomiting or nightmares. Was that the doc on the phone?"

Gibbs shook his head.

"I need coffee," he said.

Walking directly to the brewing coffee pot in the kitchen, he poured two cups and handed one to his father.

"It was Vance."

"The director?" Jackson asked taking a large sip of the strong brew.

"The pre-trial hearing's been moved forward."

"Forward? That boy will be lucky to be ready in three weeks let alone any sooner," Jackson pointed out. "How long have we got?"

"Five days," Gibbs replied, silently noting his father's use of the word "we."

"Five days? You can't be serious, Leroy! He's got a lot of healin' to do, he won't be ready for something like that in five days."

"Wasn't my choice, Dad," Gibbs defended. "There's nothing I can do."

"But you don't even know what the boy knows. He may not be able to help at all," Jackson argued.

"If he can't help, Dad, Thomas Grayson will walk free."

"But what about your team? I thought you said they've been collecting evidence against the Graysons?" Jackson asked.

"Thomas Grayson is smart, he's covered his tracks. We've got enough for a conviction on the son when we find him but not Grayson himself."

"And you really think Tony can help? The boy barely knows his own name. How do you expect him to remember what happened?"

"He's a damn federal agent, Dad!" Gibbs said, losing his patience at his father's persistence. "If he doesn't remember, I'll keep asking him until he does!"

Gibbs averted his gaze to avoid the abhorrent look on his father's face.

"At least wait until tomorrow, Leroy," Jackson stated coldly. "He'll be a little stronger."

"Ya think I'd put him through this if I had a choice?" Gibbs replied, biting down hard on his anger to keep it from spilling out. "This is important, Dad, and Tony knows that. If he saw or heard something, we'll need to investigate and time is running out. I know my agent - he can handle it."

Jackson made no secret of his displeasure as he snatched up his Winchester and headed for the door.

"I'll check around outside," he said angrily. "Don't go waking him before I get back!"

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

McGee and Ziva stood in front of a large plasma screen in Abby's lab, examining crime scene photos taken at the NCIS safe house after the murder of Agent Jack Kendall. They had been spending more time than usual in the lab, partly to keep the forensic specialist focussed as she worried frantically about Tony and Gibbs. More importantly, it allowed them to discuss the case openly without having to worry about someone listening upstairs in the squad room.

McGee clicked the remote in his hand to display to the next photo when Ziva placed her hand on his forearm.

"Wait, McGee," she said suddenly. "Go back one." She waited for the photo to re-appear on the screen and her eyes widened. "There, do you see what I see?"

"The curtains," McGee said realising that the curtains were opened about 12 inches.

"Why would they have the curtains open in a room where they are keeping the witness?" Ziva asked.

"The windows were locked so the curtains had to be opened from the inside. You think one of Balboa's team could have opened the curtains on purpose?"

"Maybe Balboa himself, he has been very curious about the progress of this case. He could be our mole, yes?"

"Agent Rickard is with the director reviewing his statement," McGee said. "We need to speak with him now, find out exactly what happened."

Ziva collected the photos and she and McGee headed for the elevator.

Arriving at the director's office they knocked on the door and asked to speak with Agent Rickard. 'Doc' Rickard was adamant that the curtains had been closed. He and Jack Kendall had 30 years of law enforcement experience between them and he resented the implication they would make such a rookie mistake. Step by step, he described the moments leading up to the shooting.

Billy Matthews had been feeling nauseous and Doc had asked Kendall to help him get Matthews into the adjoining bathroom. They were in the bathroom for just a few minutes and the sniper struck seconds after stepping back into the bedroom.

"So if the curtains were closed when you went into the bathroom, either Jarvis or Balboa must have come into the room." McGee said.

They watched the blood drain from Rickard's face.

"Oh God, it was Mark!" he said.

"Agent Jarvis?" McGee asked.

Rickard nodded.

"While we were in the bathroom with Matthews, Mark told us that he and Balboa were going to check the front of the house. He came into the bedroom."

Ziva and McGee looked expectantly at the director.

"Jarvis' apartment - go!"

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Tony had woken after only two hours of restless sleep. Despite the sickening headache and his stomach constantly threatening defiance, his muscle were protesting from lack of use and he was keen to get out of bed for a few moments. With the team leader by his side, he shuffled slowly on weak and shaky legs and Gibbs eased him gently into the overstuffed lounge chair. He noticed how the short walk had caused Tony's breathing to become laboured and his face to glisten with a layer of perspiration.

Jackson hovered at his side, fussing with the blanket he tucked around Tony's shoulders and placing a cup of warm tea into his hands. It hadn't taken Tony long to notice that the atmosphere between the two Gibbs men was decidedly icy but he knew enough about tenuous father/son relationships to know when to keep his mouth shut.

Gibbs took a seat on the couch across from him, sipping from the ever-present steaming coffee mug. He cringed internally at the ashen taint to Tony's usually well- tanned skin. His eyes were hollowed by fatigue and pain, an indication that whatever sleep he'd had was not beneficial. The dark bruises on his face were beginning to fade to a yellowish brown and by the look of the sweat pants hanging from his hips, the younger man had dropped at least 10 pounds.

Gibbs brought Tony up to date with each step of the investigation, including how the apprehension of Billy Matthews had led to them finding Tony in the tenement house. He watched the younger man's eyes widen as he was told of the three attempts on his life at the hospital and one, supposedly, while his body was being transported back to the NCIS morgue.

"So…I'm dead," Tony said flatly.

Gibbs nodded his head in confirmation.

"Except to anyone that matters," he replied.

Tony closed his eyes and groaned softly as he rubbed his long fingers along his throbbing temples.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Just thinking…last time I was dead, Personnel stopped my pay and cancelled my security clearance. Had to take a physical to prove I was alive."

Gibbs shrugged nonchalantly.

"It's touch and go whether you'd pass that physical right now," he replied. "You look like crap, DiNozzo."

"Don't let appearances fool ya, Boss, 'cause I feel much worse."

Gibbs' lips held the hint of a smile as he gladly participated in the easy banter that was an important part of his relationship with the younger man. They sat quietly for a moment, needing no words, only a companionable, calming, silence.

"Boss? Do we have a case against the Graysons?" he asked with a quiet desperation.

"Depends on what you can tell me," Gibbs replied quietly. "Need you to tell me exactly what happened, everything and anything you can remember."

After only 10 short minutes, Gibbs could see that his agent's energy levels were already flagging but he needed to get whatever information he could from him while Tony was still calm and lucid and before the pain of contracting muscles and the pull of the medication fractured his concentration.

Tony's voice was low and without inflection as he told them what he could remember about his ordeal. Some memories were vivid and detailed while others were vague and shadowy, the images disjointed and their meaning elusive. He told them of the venomous laughter that accompanied each beating and each injection. Foster and Waterson would hold him down and on every occasion the man with the syringe was Evan Grayson, cursing, laughing and promising that every shot contained a fatal dose. Each time Tony closed his eyes to sleep, he never knew whether he would ever wake up.

While Jackson fought to suppress his horror and repulsion, Gibbs' face remained inscrutable. His hands tightened in a white-knuckled grip around his coffee mug and the muscles along his jaw line flexed as he attempted to suppress his rage.

Tony crushed his eyes closed against the pain and straightened his cramping legs. He kneaded his contracting thigh muscles with trembling fingers and took a few deep breaths to ward off the rising nausea. He appeared to gaze inwardly as he recalled the days and nights spent drugged and bound on the putrid, rancid mattress. His voice hitched slightly as he described laying in his own vomit and excrement, hearing the scurrying of rats and feeling them walk on his body. He dropped his gaze to the floor and swallowed the bile that rose in his throat. He let his head drop back against the lounge chair and Jackson reached for the teacup tilting precariously from Tony's fingers.

"The boy's had enough, son," he told Gibbs.

Ignoring his father's steely glare, Gibbs leaned forward and tapped his fingers against Tony's knee.

"Hey, stay with me," he said. "I need you to tell me the last thing you remember before you woke up in the tenement house."

Tony struggled to keep his head from lolling forward and blinked his eyes rapidly in a determined effort to stay awake.

"Tony?" Gibbs took Tony's chin in his hand in an effort to maintain eye contact and to silently communicate the importance of the matter.

"Mm…not sure," he slurred sibilantly. "Mm...Ziva…'member Ziva."

The night Tony disappeared he had met with Ziva at 1900 and told her of the impending arrival of the drug shipment at 2200. Tony's cover had been blown during that time. He had to have acquired the memory stick after he left Ziva or he would have found a way to get it to her. As he watched his agent fading fast he wondered whether Tony would remember taking the memory stick and more importantly, would he remember where it was and what was on it?

"Tony?" Gibbs continued. "Abby found part of a memory stick in your pocket. Did you find something on the Graysons and try to copy it from their computer?"

Tony's forehead wrinkled as he tried to concentrate.

"Mem'ry stick?"

"A black memory stick," Gibbs tried to quash his own impatience and kept his tone gentle and calm. "It was in your pocket, Tony, did Grayson find it? What was on it?"

Tony leaned forward pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. The more he tried to concentrate the more his head throbbed. Blood was pumping furiously in his ears and he had to strain to hear anything else.

"Tony, you copied something onto a memory stick. What was it? You have to remember."

" 'M tryin' …I…don't remember…I…"

The thudding inside his chest began to increase in pace as his heart pounded against his sternum and his breathing became shallow and strained.

"Come on, Tony, what was on the memory stick?" Gibbs persisted, uncomfortably aware of his agent's increasing distress.

Tony ran both hands through his sweaty hair, swallowing convulsively as his stomach seized and recoiled.

"Boss! 'm gonna puke."

Jackson could remain silent no longer.

"Come on, young fella, I've got you," he said assisting Tony to his feet and walking quickly to the bathroom.

Tony wrapped his arms around his ribs cage and leaned heavily against the toilet. He emptied the meagre contents of his stomach, retching until he was completely spent.

Gibbs waited by the bathroom door, watching as his father provided Tony a glass of water to rinse his mouth then helped him back to the bedroom and into bed. He ignored the accusatory glare from Jackson and they watched as Tony's eyelids drooped, seemingly getting heavier with each blink until, finally, they stayed closed and the tenseness eased from his face as sleep took him.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

"Take the next right and it's the third building on the left," McGee directed.

He tightened his seat belt for the tenth time in as many minutes as Ziva executed a precarious high-speed turn and brought the NCIS vehicle to a screeching halt in front of Agent Jarvis' apartment building.

"We are here," she told her partner before noticing his unnatural pallor. "McGee? Are you coming?"

"Right behind you," he answered before muttering softly. "As soon as I peel my hands from the dashboard."

He joined her at the door of the building and flashed their ID to the perplexed looking desk clerk who told them that Agent Jarvis had not left his apartment for two days. They moved swiftly to unit 21D and knocked loudly on the door. When they received no response they knocked a second time.

"Agent Jarvis, this is Agent McGee, NCIS. Please open the door."

When they heard no reply or movement from within, McGee kicked the door in and again felt a sharp pain reverberate up his leg.

The moment the door swung open, they were overwhelmed by the putrid smell of death. Carefully, they cleared each room and located Agent Jarvis' lifeless body on the floor in the bathroom with two bullet wounds to the chest. McGee phoned the director to inform him of Jarvis' death then he requested Ducky's attendance and they began to process the crime scene.

Even though he had been a field agent for 5 years now, McGee could never get used to the stomach-turning odour of a corpse in any stage of decomposition. Using a trick he learned from Kate, he applied a generous dab of Vicks to his nostrils and urged his overly sensitive stomach not to return his last meal.

Upon Ducky's arrival, he quickly deduced the time of death to be approximately 36 hours ago. He and Palmer had the body bagged and on the gurney with a quiet, practised, efficiency and Ziva and McGee moved to process the bedroom.

"You really think he was the mole?" McGee asked.

Ziva nodded.

"It is likely."

"There were no suspicious payments in his bank account."

"He was a federal agent, McGee. He would know that we would check the accounts of all personnel if we suspected the existence of a mole," Ziva explained.

"So why kill him?"

"Perhaps he outlived his usefulness and became just another loose end. That appears to be Grayson's style," she suggested.

"That's cold," McGee replied shaking his head.

Ziva shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly.

"That's efficient."

McGee took several photos of the dresser before opening each drawer to check the contents. He noticed the unusually heavy weight of the middle drawer immediately and removed the socks and handkerchiefs to reveal a false bottom.

"Wanna know why Jarvis' bank account was clear of large deposits?" he asked.

When Ziva turned to face him he lifted the false bottom of the drawer to reveal at least thirty thousand dollars.

"Jarvis preferred cash," Ziva said.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Gibbs returned from another perimeter check, thankful for the opportunity for some fresh air and to escape the oppressive tension in the atmosphere of the small house. His father was busying himself in the kitchen, preparing lunch and setting the plates on the table with a little more force than was necessary.

"You'll wake him," Gibbs said as he picked up a dishcloth to wipe the kitchen bench.

"He's already awake," Jackson answered, volunteering nothing more.

"He okay?"

"No, son, he's not okay! He's sick and he's hurt and instead of resting he's been sitting in a chair for an hour wracking his brain over something he just can't remember."

"I'll talk to him," Gibbs said laying the dishcloth back on the sink as he made for the bedroom.

"Leroy…go easy, son," Jackson cautioned.

Gibbs' eyes flashed with acrimony at the comment.

'_What the hell does he think I'm gonna do?'_

He chose to let it go and walked into the bedroom to find Tony sitting in a chair by the window. His t-shirt and hair were damp with sweat and his body shook with harsh tremors. Green eyes, hooded in pain and misery, closed tightly as he was gripped by another wave of abdominal pain.

The younger man had spent the last hour replaying everything Gibbs had told him about the case. However, it was what Gibbs hadn't told him that made every muscle and every sinew tighten agonisingly. The fact that Gibbs had driven him miles from DC and the urgent need to know about the memory stick, told Tony that their entire case against Grayson was dependent on whatever information he could give them. If he failed to remember, Thomas Grayson would remain a free man and the whole operation - including hundreds of hours of investigative work - would have been for nothing.

He felt his heart start to race as he thought about the preparation leading up to the assignment and the six weeks he'd spent undercover. As much as he loved the thrill and excitement of undercover work, it was arduous, nerve-wracking and extremely dangerous 24 hours a day and each assignment took an enormous personal toll on him.

He opened his eyes and tried to control the tremors running through his tired limbs. He concentrated on relaxing his mind but no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember anything from the time he'd seen Ziva at the nightclub until he woke up in the tenement house.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Peachy," Tony replied through clenched teeth.

"You want anything?"

Tony huffed out a humourless laugh.

"Yeah, I want something," he answered churlishly. "I want to get out of here; I want my life back; I want my head to stop aching; my hands to stop trembling and I want to stop feeling sick to my stomach every damn minute of the day." His voice rose to a yell as he continued. "But you know what I really want, Boss? I want to stop putting my life on the line to bring these bastards to justice only to see them go free 'cause they drugged me so far out of my fricken head that I can't remember what the hell happened!"

Tony was wavering at the precipice of his self-control. The tightness in his chest pulled the air from his lungs causing him to breathe in short harsh breaths. He ground his palms into his eyes as his stomach seized painfully and a moan escaped from between tightly clenched teeth.

Gibbs waited out Tony's storm of emotion before moving to his agent's side and placing a hand of support on his shoulder.

"Deep breaths," he said softly, more than a little surprised when Tony shrugged him off.

"Don't," Tony huffed tersely, closing his eyes and resting his head on the back of the chair.

Gibbs watched as the younger man's breathing evened out and just as he thought Tony might have fallen asleep, he spoke in a quiet voice.

"You're sure about the memory stick? You're sure I had it?

"Found the lid in your pocket," Gibbs answered.

"Is that how they made me, did I blow my cover?"

"You didn't blow your cover. A Naval Supply Officer who was part of the operation showed up at the warehouse, he identified you as an NCIS agent."

"Who was it?"

"Chief Warrant Officer Louis Farrell."

"He knew me?"

"He witnessed the suicide of a sailor at Norfolk a few years back. You were lead agent and took his statement. Do you remember seeing him at the warehouse?"

Tony closed his eyes and furrowed his brow in concentration. His shoulders slumped and he shook his head slowly so as not to aggravate his already throbbing headache.

"No," he rasped almost painfully.

"You will," Gibbs affirmed. "There must have been a computer? What kind of set up did Grayson have?"

"A laptop," Tony replied. "I spent six weeks trying to get near that thing, Boss, he never let it out of his sight."

Gibbs could almost feel Tony's frustration but of more concern, he saw the unusual look of defeat in his agent's body language. He needed a distraction. Gibbs glanced quickly out of the window and had just the thing.

"Still wanna get outta here?" he asked, as Tony looked surprised and nodded. "Give me twenty minutes to check around…and ask Dad if you can borrow another sweater. It's getting cold."

Twenty minutes later, Gibbs and Jackson assisted Tony out of the house and into the paddock out the back. It would have looked like three men out for a casual stroll except for Gibbs' rifle, Jackson's Winchester and Tony's slow, stilted gait.

Gibbs' eyes were ever alert, darting and scanning their surroundings in case of trouble. Although he was sure they were alone here, he would not take any chances.

Though they'd walked only 10 yards from the house, Tony was breathing heavily and his legs shook from the exertion. Gibbs nodded toward a large wooden bench situated beneath a huge oak tree and Jackson helped Tony to ease himself down on it. Gibbs remained on his feet and on alert. The air was fresh and crisp and the view was stunning. Twenty minutes passed in almost total silence as they watched the beginning of a glorious sunset.

"So, is anyone ever gonna tell me where we are?" Tony asked, still trying to control his breathing.

"About 30 miles from Stillwater," Jackson replied. "The property was owned by my old business partner LJ. He was a bit of a loner, never was too fond of the big cities."

Tony huffed out a laugh at the thought of Stillwater as a big city.

"He had no family of his own, so when he passed, he left this place to my family," Jackson continued. "We spent a lot of time out here back then. Leroy loved it here, too. He was always catching tadpoles down by the creek or building a fort so he could play soldiers."

"So the Boss was gonna be a Marine even then," Tony said, wincing as he kneaded a painful cramp of his calf muscle.

"I don't know about that," Jackson replied. "There was a time when I thought he might enter the medical profession."

"Really?" Tony said, taken completely by surprise. "Gibbs?"

"Yep," Jackson said with a wry smile. "I caught him playing doctor with Annie Reynolds behind the woodshed."

"Dammit Dad, do you really need to talk about this stuff!" Gibbs snapped while refusing to look at DiNozzo.

"Rea-lly?" Tony said trying to catch Gibbs' eye. "Let me guess…red hair, big green eyes, sprinkling of freckles..."

Jackson nodded in agreement.

"And pretty as a picture."

"Do tell," Tony remarked, raising his eyebrows and enjoying every moment of his Boss' discomfort.

"No! Dammit. Don't tell," Gibbs growled. "Outing's over, DiNozzo, back to bed, now!"

Despite the glib facade, even in the fading light, Gibbs saw his agent's eyes were inexpressibly tired and shadowed with nightmares both waking and not. Tony stifled whatever protest he might have made when Gibbs shot him a quelling glance.

"Yes, Boss," he said resolutely.

He gritted his teeth, braced his ribs and set about regaining something that approximated an upright position. Allowing Gibbs to assist him back to the house, he make a mental note to follow-up with Jackson about Annie Reynolds and the woodshed when his Boss wasn't around.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional.**

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Ziva and McGee entered Abby's lab to the strain of Frank Sinatra's "My Way" and found a miserable looking Abby staring at the fishbowl.

"Abby?" Ziva asked. "Are you okay?"

"Oh, hi guys. I was just thinking about Tony. I really, really miss him, so I thought that a little more Sinatra might help," Abby said sadly. "I know that Tony calls Sinatra the Chairman of the Board – but to me, he's the Chairman of the Bored."

"We thought you might say that, so we got you something," McGee said.

"Really?" Abby said brightly.

"Well, sort of," Ziva replied. "We thought it might help, anyway."

McGee reached into the bag he was carrying and withdrew a CD Walkman while Ziva ejected the Frank Sinatra CD from Abby's sound system. They placed the CD in the Walkman, pressed play and stretched the headphone speakers to opposite sides of the fishbowl.

"Now Zeus and Apollo have their music and you can have yours," McGee said.

Abby flashed an enormous grin and grabbed them both in a hug.

"Aw…thanks you guys! That's so great."

"Do you have anything for us Abs?" McGee asked.

"Don't I always, Timmy?" Abby countered. "The bullets that killed Agent Jarvis, match the bullets that killed Agent Kendall and the ones that were fired into our coroner's van. The gun was the one you found in the possession of the recently deceased Steven Denton, so unfortunately that lead ends with his death."

"We just found thirty thousand dollars cash in a dresser at Jarvis' apartment," McGee said.

"So, Mark Jarvis _was_ our mole?" Abby asked.

"It looks that way, yes," Ziva replied.

"And you think the money is from Grayson?"

"I'd bet my life on it Abs, but we can't trace the cash so the only way to tie Grayson into this mess, is to break the encryption code on the deposits to CWO Farrell – that will allow us to trace the source of the funds." McGee was increasingly frustrated that his area of expertise was being stretched to its limits but he was more determined than ever to accomplish the task.

"You'll do it, Timmy. I know you will."

"Thanks, Abs," he said leaning in to place a kiss on her cheek. "Go play your music. The Hammer-Headed Zombie Cats await you. We'll bring back some take-out."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

The fresh air seemed to do some good, putting a splash of healthy colour in Tony's pale cheeks. Unfortunately, almost as soon as they were back inside the house his thoughts were once again consumed with trying to remember what had happened during the three "missing" hours prior to the drug raid at the warehouse. He became quiet and introverted, two words that were not usually synonymous with Anthony DiNozzo.

He managed a few mouthfuls of soup for dinner but spent more time staring into the bowl than eating until Gibbs helped him onto the couch and lit the fireplace. As the lead agent returned to the kitchen to assist Jackson with the washing up, his father's expression was one of deep concern.

"He'll never get his strength back if he doesn't eat, son."

"Ducky said it was a side effect. He'll eat when he's hungry."

When the water boiled, Gibbs made Tony a cup of tea but stopped in the doorway of the living room. With his head canted at an angle that guaranteed a stiff neck, Tony was already out like a light, sprawled across the couch, slack-jawed and snoring gently. Even in sleep, the occasional grimace appeared on his face as a muscle spasm bit painfully.

Despite the dropping temperature outside, the fireplace was generating enough warmth in the house for Tony not to need a blanket and Gibbs left him to what he hoped was a healing sleep. They'd wake him later and send him to bed. Jackson raised his eyebrows as Gibbs returned with the tea.

"Asleep," Gibbs explained as Jackson nodded.

"You wanna play some checkers? We haven't done that in a while," Jackson said.

"What about gin? You got a deck?"

"Nope, just checkers."

"You always beat me at checkers," Gibbs admitted begrudgingly.

"You gotta problem with that?" Jackson replied with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Gibbs grinned briefly and downed his coffee in two scalding mouthfuls before shrugging on his coat and reaching for his rifle.

"Set up the board, I'll be back when I've checked around."

Almost two hours later they were into their third tightly contested game.

"You've improved, Leroy!" Jackson remarked.

"It's been 20 years, Dad."

"Still, you're pretty good now," he said. "No match for me, of course - king me."

The shrill of the satellite phone caused the retort to freeze on Gibbs' lips and he reached for the phone before it woke Tony. He checked his watch.

"That'll be Ducky," he said.

As was the nightly ritual, he and Ducky discussed Tony's condition and any changes to his meds. Ducky was not overly concerned about the lack of appetite at the moment as long as Tony was drinking enough fluids. The low-grade fevers seemed to appear each night and were gone by morning but the nausea, headaches, trembling and muscle spasms were a constant source of misery and discomfort.

The stress and frustration of not remembering what happened during those three "missing" hours was not helping his recovery and Ducky advised Gibbs of the possibility that Tony may never remember what happened. He made a slight change to Tony's medication and insisted he be contacted should Tony's condition worsen.

Gibbs checked in with Abby, McGee and Ziva and was told of the murder of the NCIS suspected mole Agent Jarvis. Gibbs reminded the team that they should not rely on Tony to produce the evidence on Grayson. He knew they'd been working around the clock with him and Tony away but he still demanded results and they expected nothing less of themselves.

A quick check on his still sleeping agent confirmed the return of the low-grade fever. There was time for one more coffee and one final game of checkers before he helped Tony into the bedroom and checked the perimeter again.

"By my reckoning, son, you now owe me the title of your house," Jackson gloated.

"Double or nothing," Gibbs said, never one to accept defeat. "Set 'em up again, old timer."

Loud incoherent mumbling sounded from the living room and both men rose to their feet to find Tony distressed and seemingly caught in another nightmare. Making their way quickly to the younger man's side, Jackson leaned over to wake him when Gibbs noticed Tony's open and wide with panic. He'd seen that look of abstract fear before on too many faces and he knew this was not a nightmare, but a flashback - Tony was reliving his recent terror. Gibbs pulled his father safely to the side just as Tony began kicking and punching at his imagined attackers, cursing loudly and writhing furiously.

Mindful of Tony's broken ribs, Gibbs moved cautiously next to his agent attempting to pin him to the couch and stop him from hurting himself. Though his vision was blurred, Tony sensed movement to his left and channelled his remaining energy into a powerful right hook that caught Gibbs on the jaw and sat him on his butt. The contact snapped Tony back to reality and he blinked owlishly from Gibbs to Jackson, trying to gauge what had happened.

"Boss?" he said tremulously watching Gibbs flexing his jaw. "Did I…oh God, I'm sorry."

"Lucky punch, forget it," Gibbs said, secretly using his tongue to check that his teeth were still in place.

"I…I didn't know it was you," Tony explained. "I thought…I thought I was back in the warehouse... I thought-."

He scrambled to his feet quickly, immediately receiving an agonising reminder of his broken ribs as the pain grated right through him and a moan escaped from between tightly clenched teeth. Gibbs threw out a hand to steady him as he swayed dizzily.

"Sit down and before you fall down," he said easing Tony back onto the couch.

"I'll get his meds," Jackson said disappearing into the bedroom.

"You okay?" Gibbs asked, watching as Tony exhaled a long breath and rested his head on the back on the couch.

"I'm fine."

Gibbs didn't believe him for a second but he didn't press.

Jackson arrived with Tony's meds, his Naltrexone injection and a glass of water. After the meds were administered they sat quietly watching the fire burn down to embers and waiting for Tony's pain meds to kick in.

"Boss, did I say anything?" Tony asked softly. "You know, something that might help the case."

"Language was colourful," Gibbs quipped.

"Private school education – my father's money well spent," Tony replied.

His tone became serious and he met Gibbs' steady gaze.

"Did I say anything we could use against Grayson?"

The desperation in the younger man's eyes was almost palpable and Gibbs felt his chest tighten in response.

"Nothing we can use," he replied truthfully.

Tony's head dropped and he closed his eyes in a mixture of fatigue and disappointment, the tremors in his limbs becoming more obvious.

"Come on Cassius, the only thing you're gonna hit right now is the rack," Gibbs said, helping him to his feet and into the bedroom.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

At the director's insistence, Abby, Ziva and McGee all took four hours to go home, freshen up. Vance personally monitored their BOLO's and used his considerable computer skills to assist McGee to trace the origin of the funds paid to CWO Farrell. The encryption was still intact and Vance experienced the source of McGee's frustration first hand.

The agents had been back at their desks for 30 minutes when Metro PD reported the location of an abandoned dark blue Avalanche in the parking lot of a small office building, just four miles from Bethesda hospital. McGee and Ziva drove to the scene and met with the police officers that responded to the BOLO.

Donning their latex gloves, they popped the trunk and found an M24 sniper rifle, the same type of weapon used in the attempt on Tony's life. They immediately called for the tow truck to have the car moved to the NCIS impound yard.

There were no security cameras located in the parking lot of the building, so McGee and Ziva stood by the vehicle and looked around at neighbouring establishments. A 24 hour bar and grill was situated next door and the agents were hopeful that the angle of their security cameras may have captured the arrival of the Avalanche a few days before. They were given the tapes and headed back to NCIS to examine them.

Several hours later, Abby was able to positively identify the rifle as the weapon used in the sniper attack on Tony's hospital room and further processing of the Avalanche had revealed another wad of gum in the ashtray that matched Evan Grayson's DNA.

Ziva and McGee established that the Avalanche had been stolen from the home of Arthur Cant who lived alone, was currently on an interstate business trip and totally unaware his vehicle had been stolen.

The security tapes provided by O'Malley's Bar and Grill had a clear view of the arrival of the Avalanche, fifteen minutes after the shooting took place. After some enhancement of the quality of the tape, Evan Grayson was clearly seen removing the rifle from the front seat of the vehicle and placing it in the trunk. He used a cell to make a call and waited by the parking lot entrance for eight minutes until Capitol Cab vehicle number 1389 picked him up.

Calls to the dispatcher of Capitol Cabs had provided the name and number of the driver of the cab who had recorded the drop off address as 13748 Turnbull Road Brentwood. The home was owned by William Kent who had no social security number or driver's licence and did not own a credit card account. All utilities were paid by automatic debit from an undisclosed account. From what they could tell, William Kent was a ghost and the house in his name was more than likely Grayson's safe house.

McGee and Ziva brought the director up to date with their findings and organised a warrant for the search of the premises and another for Evan Grayson's arrest. Vance instructed Agent Jensen's team to accompany Ziva and McGee as backup, reminding his agents that if they could get Evan Grayson into the interrogation room and apply some pressure, he might slip up and incriminate his father.

Vance stood on the landing above the squad room and watched as his agents gathered their weapons and badges and headed for the exit. He closed his eyes and exhaled deeply, praying for the safety of his agents and an end to this nightmare.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

It was almost four in the morning when the six agents surrounded the house. Using hand held thermal imaging equipment they determined there was only one occupant, located in a room at the back of the house and it appeared to be seated at a table or desk.

Ziva and McGee positioned themselves at the rear of the house and heard the loud pounding on the front door as Agent Jensen yelled for Grayson to open the door. Still looking through the thermal imaging equipment they watched as the almost ghostly, illuminated figure, leapt to its feet and ran into another room, disappearing from view for a few seconds. Then it was back and running for the front of the house.

"Jensen, Malone standby, he's headed your way," McGee warned through his com-link and received confirmation seconds later.

"Roger, that," said Malone

"Standing by," replied Jensen.

Agent Malone had been positioned near the living room windows with infrared goggles. He watched the figure move toward the front door.

"Target confirmed as Evan Grayson. Repeat. Target **is** Evan Grayson," Malone stated then he watched in horror as Grayson lifted a machine pistol and aimed it towards the door with the rest of his team standing on the other side.

"Down, get down!" Malone yelled to his team a second before a burst of fire from the machine pistol bit through the door and sent the agents scrambling for cover.

Malone returned fire through the living room window but his rounds went wide of their intended target. He dived flat against the ground as a hail of bullets firing and glass shattering filled the air. Desperate for an exit, Grayson ran toward the back of the house.

"He's headed toward the back!" Malone shouted.

"We are ready," the icy cool female voice responded. "Remember, McGee, we want Grayson alive. He must pay for what he did to Tony."

McGee found the calmness of Ziva's voice almost as unnerving as the situation. He took a deep breath and focussed his attention on the back door when it swung open suddenly and Grayson appeared, firing indiscriminate, rapid bursts from the machine pistol as he charged through the doorway.

A round from Ziva's Sig caught Grayson high in the right thigh and he fell heavily to one knee.

"Drop the weapon, Grayson," McGee called, continuing to train his weapon on the man.

Grayson let his arms fall to his sides but kept his fingers wrapped tightly around the grip of the weapon.

"Not good enough, Grayson. Drop. The. Weapon!" McGee repeated.

A contemptuous sneer darkened Grayson's face and he started to lift and aim the weapon at the agents.

This time both agents fired, Ziva expertly placing her round in Grayson's right shoulder while McGee's bullet entered the man's left thigh. His face twisted in a combination of agony and fury but he maintained his firm grip on the weapon.

Grayson was on his knees, keening softly as excruciating pain sliced through him and bent him double at the waist. He rocked back and forth, hugging the weapon to his chest.

Slowly, he raised his head and stared in confusion at his own blood pooling in the dirt around him. He extended one trembling hand and touched his fingers to the blood, staring at it in disbelief.

In the house behind him, he could hear Agent Jenson's team making their way quickly toward the back, as they efficiently cleared each room.

He was trapped.

McGee stood up and started circling Grayson to the left, his Sig trained on him at all times.

"Drop the weapon Grayson. It's over."

"McGee," hissed Ziva. "No!"

Grayson turned his head slowly toward McGee and suddenly, all the pain, all the frustration of the last 8 weeks and his fury at being duped by Tony was concentrated on the agent who approached him.

A horrific roar was dragged from his chest, his face purple and contorted with fury as he pushed himself up from the dirt and - lifting the weapon - swung it to face McGee, squeezing down hard on the trigger.

McGee saw Grayson turning toward him and was stunned by the hatred that burned in the other man's eyes. He watched as he lifted his weapon and saw the dust kicked up by the bullets coming closer as Grayson adjusted his aim.

Multiple shots rang out and Grayson's body twitched and jerked in a macabre dance as the rapid fire bullets from three agents tore through him and his lifeless form collapsed in the dirt, eyes staring unseeingly up at the sky.

Expelling his pent up breath, McGee spotted Agent Jenson crouched in the back doorway, his weapon trained on Grayson. Meeting the other man's eyes, he gave a small nod in silent thanks and received a lifted eyebrow in acknowledgment before the agent turned on his heel and instructed his team to start processing the scene.

He felt Ziva's presence as she slowly approached and turning towards her, he opened his mouth to stammer out his thanks when the look on her face caused the words to die on his lips. In his anxiousness to apprehend Grayson, McGee had broken cover early and had come very close to losing his life. Fleetingly he wondered whether she was angry that he'd broken cover or that his actions had denied her the opportunity to interrogate Grayson "Mossad style." With fury evident in every line of her body, she impaled him with her eyes, stepped up to him and said in an icy calm voice.

"McGee, if you _ever_ do that again – I will shoot you myself."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

'_One down, one to go.' _Gibbs thought as he closed the Sat phone following his conversation with McGee. But he wasn't satisfied - he wanted Thomas Grayson and so far they had nothing but speculation. A thorough search of Grayson's safe house produced a small weapons arsenal, fake passports and a large amount of cash but the laptop computer that Tony said was never out of Evan Grayson's sight, was no where to be found.

The hearing was approaching quickly and they were running out of time. As much as Gibbs hated to do it, he was going to have to push Tony harder – he knew the kind of agent Tony was and he knew that the younger man held the key that would open the door to Thomas Grayson's demise.

Tony had suffered through another night of night sweats; muscle spasms and vomiting but it was the severe headaches that made it so difficult for him to concentrate or remember the details of the "missing" three hours.

Frequent and volatile mood-swings saw Gibbs' affable, even-tempered senior field agent unpredictably transform, without provocation or warning, into a belligerent, angry and very frustrated man. He was hurting and his failure to recall events at the warehouse placed him under pressure that he was neither physically or emotionally able to handle.

An earlier attempt by Gibbs to try to coax the memories from him had resulted in a totally uncharacteristic tirade that nearly lifted the roof and gave way to painful retching and vomiting. After that, Jackson had appointed himself as Tony's sentinel and had ordered Gibbs from the bedroom. That was two hours ago and apart from the occasional sound of muted voices there had been no movement from the room since. Finally, the door opened and Jackson walked through the living room towards the kitchen, impaling Gibbs with an icy glare as he walked passed. Gibbs followed him to the kitchen.

"How's he doing?"

"He's sick, Leroy, how do you think he's doing?" Jackson snapped.

"Look, Dad I know what you think but this has to be done."

Jackson slammed his fist on the kitchen table.

"For pity's sake, Leroy, how many times does the boy need to tell you he can't remember?"

"He _has_ to remember," Gibbs replied matching his father's volume.

"Why?" Jackson asked. "Because of this case or because you won't accept that you can't always win?"

Gibbs saw his own steely intractability reflecting back at him through his father's eyes.

"Is that what you think? This isn't about winning or losing, Dad, this is about Tony's life."

"How is this about Tony's life?" Jackson asked.

"DiNozzo is the only thing standing between Grayson doing time in a federal prison or walking away Scott-free. I know him Dad, better than anyone. He's a hell of an investigator - he saw something or heard something that can break this case wide open," Gibbs explained.

"Take a good look at what this is doing to him, son. Tell me…is it worth it?"

"Dammit Dad, _he's_ worth it!" Gibbs ran his hands through his hair and took a few composing breaths before continuing.

"If he can't remember anything and Grayson walks, he will hunt Tony down. He'll either be killed or he'll have no choice but to become part of the FBI witness protection program for the rest of his life. Either way, we lose him… I'm not about to let that happen."

Having reached an uncomfortable understanding, Jackson grudgingly agreed to allow Gibbs to take a slice of toast and a mug of tea into Tony's room while he remained in the kitchen to give them some privacy.

Gibbs opened the door to the bedroom and placed the items on the small bedside table. Tony was sitting in the chair staring vacantly out of the window and Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed.

"Tony," he said, noting that the younger man was trembling despite the warmth of the room.

"Don't start," Tony said curtly. "I don't remember anything. Please, Boss, just…just go."

Gibbs shook his head.

"Can't do that, Tony."

"Fine," Tony replied struggling to his feet. "You stay, I'll go."

Gibbs blocked his exit and placed his hand on Tony's forearm. Tony shrugged it off angrily and Gibbs raised his hands in a gesture of resignation.

"Take it easy," he said not wanting the man to hurt himself, "we'll talk when you're a little less tired and a lot less pissed."

Tony laughed humourlessly.

"See you in a few years."

Gibbs shot him a look that telegraphed an extra dose of annoyance but reined in his irritation and moved the toast closer to Tony.

"Eat," he said as he prepared to leave the room. "You need something else, just ask."

"You know what I really need, I need you to stop expecting me to tell you something that I can't _freakin_' remember!" Tony folded his arms across his chest and started to pace back and forth across the room. "I don't remember getting to the computer, I don't remember downloading any information, I don't remember the freakin' memory stick or blowing my cover! The whole operation could have been a bust for all you know! What makes you so sure I got something?"

"I know you," Gibbs said hoping his confidence would shore up the younger man who looked like he was on the verge of a meltdown.

"That's it? You're basing the whole damn case on that!" Tony laughed, the sound terrifyingly close to hysteria.

"Pretty much," Gibbs shrugged.

Tony's heart pounded a frantic rhythm against his sternum and his skin was moist with perspiration.

"McGee and Ziva need to find Evan Grayson," he said through clenched teeth. "Find Evan you find the computer."

"They found him, Tony…he's dead. There was no computer with him."

Tony fell back against the wall as if struck. Exhaustion replaced the tension that had held him upright and his legs folded out from under him. He hit the ground with a jaw-snapping thud stealing the air from his lungs and sending wave after wave of pain and nausea through his body. Gibbs was at his side in an instant, his hand warm and calming against the nape of Tony's neck.

"Take it easy. Just breathe slowly," Gibbs encouraged.

"I can't do this, Boss," Tony gasped, his voice was low, anxious and on the edge of self-control. "The case… the detox… the methadone…I can't do it…."

"You'll get through this. I know you will."

As Tony listened to his Boss' words and met his intense gaze, he understood that the words were not empty promises - they were words of complete and utter faith.

**-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer:- I do not own NCIS or its characters and any copyright infringement is unintentional**

**A/N**:- As we enter the final chapter, please accept my grateful thanks for your amazing support of this story. L

**Withdrawal**

**Chapter Fifteen**

Jackson placed his fly-fishing magazine on the coffee table and removed his reading glasses. He rose to his feet and casually inched toward the closed bedroom door.

Without looking up from his crossword, Gibbs spoke to his father.

"Don't go in there."

Jackson looked up innocently. "I wasn't going in there. I was just stretching my legs." He looked across at the closed bedroom door.

"He's fine," Gibbs said, before his father thought of yet another reason to check on Tony.

"How long has it been?"

"Since you last asked me that - ten minutes. Since he went to sleep – four hours," Gibbs replied.

"The boy needs nourishment, Leroy. He hasn't had more than a few spoonfuls of soup and a bite of toast all day."

"He needs sleep more," Gibbs replied. "He's due for his meds in an hour, he can eat then."

"Boss! Boss!"

Tony's frantic shouts from the bedroom caused both men to hurry for the door. They shouldered each other through the narrow doorway like a pair of bumper cars and found Tony sitting up in the dishevelled bed. The linen was damp and twisted beneath him and his eyes were wide, his chest heaving and his t-shirt stained in sweat.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs said quietly.

Tony's eyes were looking right at him but didn't appear to see him and Gibbs wondered whether his agent was even awake. He placed his hand on Tony's shoulder, feeling the tremors coursing through his body.

"Hey...Tony, you with me?" Gibbs asked.

"Boss… it was…I was…I think…" Tony stammered still sleep muddled.

"Was just a dream...you were dreaming," Gibbs said gruffly, hoping the younger man would focus on his voice.

Jackson appeared with a glass of water and Tony's pain meds. He handed the glass and tablets to Gibbs.

"Here, son, it won't hurt him to have these a little early tonight."

"No!" Tony replied emphatically. "He left the office, Boss. He took a phone call from his father and he left me in the office."

"Grayson?" Gibbs asked.

Tony nodded his head.

"He left me in the office with the computer."

Gibbs felt his own heart race as he realised that Tony had started to remember what had happened during those missing hours.

"And the memory stick?"

Tony closed his eyes and frowned in concentration.

"I downloaded the files. There were details of drug shipments and supplies; payments; contacts and decryption codes. Everything, Boss, everything we needed to make a case against both Graysons."

"Then what happened?" Gibbs asked.

With his eyes still closed, he rubbed his temples to stop the painful throbbing.

"I…I had it in my pocket," he said. "The shipment was about an hour away and Evan and I walked into the warehouse to make sure everything was ready and… he was there."

"CWO Louis Farrell."

"I don't think he recognised me at first and I thought I could hold out until the drug bust but he remembered me and… things got a little hairy after that."

"They found the memory stick?" Gibbs coaxed.

Tony nodded.

"Found it in my pocket…then Evan called his father. Took great pleasure in putting the call on speaker so I could hear his old man tell him to kill me."

The memories came back in a rush and Tony desperately tried to avoid the pain and fear that came with them.

"So…it's gone? The memory stick?" Gibbs prompted trying to help Tony push the raw feelings away and focus on the facts.

Tony started to nod again and then suddenly sat stock-still. Any colour he had in his face drained quickly away and his jaw dropped open. Gibbs feared for a moment that the younger man was about to pass out.

"Boss…I emailed it," he spoke in a whisper. "The files from the memory stick…I…emailed them in case I got caught. I heard Evan coming back and my NCIS email account was the first one I thought of. I...I emailed it and then deleted it from the sent file on the laptop. "

They stared at each other, not breathing and ten seconds of complete silence passed before the realisation of Tony's statement struck them. It was Gibbs who broke the silence.

"DiNozzo, you crafty sonofabitch," Gibbs growled with a hint of a smile, "how'd you get so cunning?"

Tony's face lit up with his first real smile in weeks.

"I learned from the master."

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Three hours had past since Tony had remembered emailing Grayson's files to his NCIS email account. Gibbs immediately phoned McGee who quickly confirmed that a large file had been sitting in Tony's 'in box' for 10 days. Now armed with the decryption codes for the files, McGee was anxious to sift through the information, to ensure they contained the evidence needed to obtain a warrant for Thomas Grayson's arrest. He assured Gibbs he would call back as soon as they had what they needed.

Tony delayed taking his meds, insisting on waiting up for the call and he gingerly moved his lanky frame to the couch. The prospect of an end to this particular nightmare had lifted his spirits and despite the obvious presence of tremors and muscle spasms, Gibbs could practically see some of the weight lifting from Tony's shoulders.

"…anyway, he tells M that she was right about Vesper. M then tells Bond that MI6 needs him and…"

"She reinstates him as an agent," Gibbs finished.

"You been holding out on me, Boss?" Tony asked, his tired red-rimmed eyes wide in surprise.

"Nope. Lucky guess."

Tony's eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Could it be that you have already seen Quantum of Solace and you know all about Bond's struggle to reveal the truth about the sexy and extremely hot, Vespa?"

"Nope. But it's entirely possible I already know all I _want_ to know about it," Gibbs replied bringing the conversation to an abrupt halt but relieved to see the occasional glimpse of normality from the younger man.

Jackson appeared from the kitchen.

"Dinner's ready," he said walking to the couch to help Tony stand up. "Think you can eat something?"

"I'm not really hungry," Tony replied. A look from his boss had him hastily adding. "But I'll do my best."

They ate in companionable silence, all anxiously waiting for McGee to call with news of the case. Tony's lack of appetite was obvious from the moment he sat at the table but he managed a small portion of Jackson's famous beef stew before the nausea returned to steal his appetite. He reached for the satellite phone for the fifth time in as many minutes.

"Leave it alone, he'll call when he's got something," Gibbs said fighting his own impatience.

Dinner was over; the kitchen was clean and still there was no call. Tony was becoming agitated and edgy, the good mood from earlier was quickly disappearing the longer he delayed taking his meds. Jackson excused himself and went to shower leaving Tony and Gibbs to their nervous tension. Gibbs thought a distraction was in order.

"You wanna play checkers?" he asked.

Tony shook his head.

"What about poker? You got a deck?"

"Nope, just checkers," Gibbs replied already setting up the board.

"You always beat me at checkers," Tony groaned.

"You gotta problem with that?"

"No, Boss… no problem."

"Come on...you get first move," Gibbs said.

The first game finished in record time and it was more than obvious that Tony's mind was elsewhere and his concentration non-existent.

"Sorry, Boss, guess I'm a little distracted," Tony said rubbing his hands over sunken green eyes and grimacing as his stomach cramped painfully.

"Take your meds and hit the rack," Gibbs told him. "I'll let you know when he calls."

Tony opened his mouth to protest but Gibbs silenced him with a glare that froze the words on his lips.

"Go!" he said gruffly.

Rising to his feet cautiously, Tony was almost to the bedroom when the shrill of the Sat phone fractured the silence.

Gibbs flicked the phone to speaker and Jackson joined them in the living room as they listened to McGee's report. The files contained a huge amount of information through which they were still sifting. However, based on the information they had seen so far, they now had enough evidence to issue an arrest warrant for Thomas Grayson on charges ranging from drug-importation, conspiracy to murder and bribing customs officials. It was expected that more charges were to be laid once the information in the files had been more thoroughly investigated.

"Gotta go, Boss," McGee said. "Director Vance is personally accompanying Ziva and me to arrest Thomas Grayson."

"Say hi from me," Tony said quietly.

"I can't…you're dead, remember?" McGee replied dryly. "Talk to you tomorrow, Boss."

They sat quietly for a few moments after the call disconnected, then Tony climbed wearily to his feet.

"I'm gonna hit the rack."

"You okay?" Gibbs asked.

"Sure, Boss, just glad it's finally over," Tony replied as he edged his way slowly into the bedroom.

Jackson watched as the door closed.

"The boy did good," he said.

"Yep," Gibbs replied.

"You should try telling him that."

"He knows."

"How could he know if you don't tell him?" Jackson persisted.

"He's senior field agent on my team, Dad...he knows."

"All I'm saying, Leroy, is that it wouldn't hurt you once in a while…"

"Dad…trust me…he knows."

Gibbs looked towards the closed bedroom door, content in the knowledge that the relationship he had built with his senior field agent over the past eight years meant that words weren't always necessary between them.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Less than 24 hours after news broke of Grayson's arrest, his political and business associates couldn't distance themselves fast enough from Thomas Grayson or Grayson Industries. A new pre-trial hearing date had been set for four weeks, giving Tony more time to regain some of his strength before having to give evidence. This time, JAG Prosecutor, Commander Peter Barnes had successfully argued that Thomas Grayson was a flight risk and Grayson had been remanded in custody until the pre-trial hearing.

The repercussions of the information in Grayson's file reached far beyond the Navy personnel involved in the distribution of illicit drugs. Although they had been the initial reason for the undercover assignment, the agents could never have imagined the enormity of the result.

With customs officials, police officers and politicians all implicated and allegedly involved in various crimes, the case was drawing national media coverage and was a very big feather in the NCIS cap - despite most television networks incorrectly awarding credit to the FBI.

Tony had continued to recover slowly. The Naltrexone stopped the craving for heroin but it brought it's own set of unpleasant and ongoing side effects. With the exception of a bout of pneumonic plague Tony had spent the majority of his life as a healthy, athletic man and was finding the chronic effects of the Naltrexone treatment particularly difficult to handle. He was irritable, moody and impatient with the slow progress and the expected long duration of his recovery. The ongoing nausea and vomiting caused him to lose more weight while severe headaches meant he couldn't focus or concentrate for more than ten minutes at a time. Despite Ducky's assurances that Tony's recovery was right on schedule, the younger man began to doubt that his life would ever be the same. Tony needed something to lift his spirits and Gibbs knew just the thing.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-**

Gibbs and Jackson assisted Tony to the front porch when the car horn sounded. Abby was out of the car in a flash and zeroing in on Tony like a gothic Exocet missile. Knowing he was still weak enough to be blown over by a strong wind, Gibbs positioned himself behind Tony ready to shore him up, if necessary.

"Tony! I've missed you!" Abby exclaimed, sprinting across the front yard as fast as her platform boots would carry her. She stopped abruptly, just two feet in front of him and could not hide the worry in her eyes as she gently reached out and pulled him into a hug.

"I've missed you too, Abs," he said softly, closing his eyes and relishing the closeness they shared.

By the time they'd finished their hug, the others had gathered around and Jackson invited everyone into the backyard where lunch was to be held.

Jackson and Ducky manned the grill, discussing their various barbecuing techniques and the primordial origin of barbequing. Gibbs handed out drinks from the icebox and joined the others sitting on the chairs under the large oak tree.

Ziva sat quietly appraising her partner while the other team members engaged in friendly banter. His face was pale and still bore the fading mottled bruising from the brutal beatings. He was too thin for her liking and although he was trying hard, his eyes lacked their usual sparkle and his handsome face contorted with each painful protest from his rebellious muscles. Ziva's face betrayed her concern when Tony caught her staring.

"Something wrong, Ziva?" he asked.

"No…nothing is wrong," Ziva replied, her face flushing with colour. "I am just admiring your ensemble."

"Oh, this little number," he said with a grin. "It's another sweater from the Jackson Gibbs collection."

Gibbs pressed a bottle of water into Tony's hands.

"Drink," he said succinctly.

Ignoring his agent's indignant huff and the roll of his eyes, Gibbs stood right beside him until he'd taken a few mouthfuls then, satisfied, he walked to the barbeque to offer his own barbequing tips.

"Palmer, I'm surprised to see you here," Tony said. "Last I heard you were about to be trussed like a turkey and fed your own ears. Could it be that our crazy ninja chick is getting soft?"

"Ziva very graciously decided to forgive me," Jimmy explained with obvious relief.

"Yes, Jimmy and I decided to bury the ratchet," Ziva said.

Tony squinted suspiciously, his eyes flicking from Jimmy to Ziva and back.

"Firstly, it's bury the hatchet not ratchet," Tony replied. "And secondly, when you bury the hatchet my little Israeli assassin, it's usually in somebody's back!"

"I decided to make an exception in this case," Ziva said coyly.

While the others turned their attention to the aroma of the barbeque, Tony drew Jimmy aside.

"Come on, Palmer, give – what did it cost you…your first born, a months worth of ass-kicking, what?"

Jimmy looked a little embarrassed and then answered.

"Shoes. I had to take her shoe shopping."

Tony grimaced.

"Nasty. I'd rather get my ass kicked for a month."

Jimmy shrugged.

"It wasn't so bad, I like shoes and she has very good taste!"

"Good as in expensive?"

"Exorbitant, I'll be paying off my credit card for months," Jimmy winced.

When the meat and salads were ready they filled their plates and walked back to their chairs to eat in the shade of the tree.

"I still can't believe it," McGee said shaking his head as he walked back from the barbeque. "Who would have thought that Tony's computer skills would crack this case?"

Tony smiled at the normality of the jibe.

"Don't worry, McAppleMac – you're still top Geek around here."

Gibbs listened with interest to the conversations happening around him as the younger agents relaxed and revelled in the almost familial atmosphere. It wasn't long after lunch had been eaten that he noticed the tremors in Tony's limbs had returned while his squinting, red-rimmed eyes and the perspiration glistening on his face clearly spoke of his agent's need to rest.

A glance at his father was all it took for Jackson to rise to his feet and offer to show Abby and Ziva the panoramic view from the nearby hill. Begrudgingly, he allowed McGee and Palmer to come along, once they had given their word not to cramp his style with the ladies. Then, with a young lady on each arm the charming Jackson Gibbs led the way to the most picturesque spot on the property.

Once the others had set off on their walk, Gibbs and Ducky helped Tony into the house to allow the ME to check him over. Ducky advised them that some of Tony's test results had returned. Hepatitis – negative; endocarditis – negative; HIV/Aids preliminary tests – negative, although it would be two months before the final results were received.

Ducky changed Tony's medication from Naltrexone to Subutex, which he could take sublingually rather than by injection, and he removed Tony's picc line. Unfortunately, the unpleasant side effects of the new drug were very similar to what he was already experiencing.

By the time the others had returned, Tony was nowhere to be seen, having fallen asleep in the middle of Ducky's examination. They let him sleep for a few hours and when he woke the others were preparing to leave. Tony, Gibbs and Jackson walked them to their car.

"So, Tony, when are you coming home?" McGee asked.

"We're driving to Stillwater tomorrow. I'll be staying with Jackson until the hearing," Tony replied.

"Oh, that reminds me," Abby said removing a backpack from the car. "We brought some of your DVD's to help pass the time and don't worry about Zeus and Apollo, 'cause I'm taking really, really good care of them."

"Thanks Abs," he said, pulling her in for a one-armed hug.

"Oh, and Commander Barnes said to tell you that his wife Helen insists on cooking all of your favourite meals when you come home, so we can fatten you up!"

"Maybe then you will get your little hairy butt back, yes?" Ziva said, as she uncharacteristically moved in to hug Tony from his other side and winced at the tremors running through his too thin body.

"You been watching my tushie, Zee-vah?" he asked.

"No…maybe…okay, yes!" she said, enjoying the smile her admission brought to his face.

"We miss you so much!" Abby said. "When can you come back to work?"

"Ducky said I can start light duties in about five months, maybe less if I'm a good boy."

"So, at _least five_ months, then," Jimmy said with a grin, knowing that when it came to his health, Tony didn't always have the patience to be "good" and had often tried to do too much too soon.

"I hate to break this up but we really need to get going," McGee announced.

"Timmy has a date with a hot nurse," Abby whispered loudly to Tony.

"I told you Abs, it's not a date, we're just meeting for a late supper," McGee explained.

"You should have heard him in the car, Tony, it was Danielle this and Danielle that, in fact that's all we've heard since he met her in your hospital room."

Tony's face suddenly darkened.

"Let me get this straight, McGee. While I was laying in a hospital bed, _on life support_, you were hitting on a hot nurse?"

"No, Tony…I mean…not hitting on…exactly…okay, yes, I was hitting on her," he confessed reluctantly.

Tony's trademark grin lit up his features.

"Good work, Grasshopper, I've taught you well. Maybe when I get back I can meet this hot nurse and thank her for looking after me so well."

"NO!" McGee answered a little too quickly. "That is…no thanks are necessary…she was just doing her job and you were…er… just another patient she's already forgotten."

"Oh…okay then," Tony said failing to keep the hurt from his voice.

"Come along now everyone, we mustn't dally if we are to arrive home at a decent hour," Ducky said. "Anthony has had more than enough excitement for one day - he needs his rest."

With handshakes and hugs all round, Tony watched as McGee, Ziva, Abby, Ducky and Palmer started their trek back to DC. Once again, he was comforted by the thought that Gibbs and the rest of their Heinz variety group, was his touchstone. His friends and his job kept him centred and gave him something to hang on to, something to fight for.

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—**

Gibbs stayed another night, assisting Tony through another round of bad dreams, night sweats and stomach cramps and in the morning they closed up the house and prepared to leave. Jackson and Tony were headed for Stillwater and Gibbs back to DC.

Gibbs walked over to Tony who had been unusually quiet all morning.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Sure, Boss," Tony replied with his stock answer.

"You did good, Tony," Gibbs said with more than a modicum of genuine pride.

Tony held his gaze for a long moment.

"Thanks, Boss."

And because they didn't always need words to communicate, Gibbs clearly heard the unspoken '_for everything.'_

"I'll put your bag in the trunk," Tony said.

Gibbs and Jackson watched as Tony walked slowly to the car on still shaky legs.

"You'll call me if he needs anything?" Gibbs asked his father, while still watching Tony.

"I'll take care of him, son," Jackson said. "Looks like you were right though."

"About?"

"The boy's gonna be fine."

"Yep," Gibbs answered.

"You never had any doubts?"

"Nope."

"He can be a stubborn, young cuss," Jackson grinned.

"You got that right."

"But he's a good man."

Gibbs took a moment to consider that before he nodded his head in agreement and replied.

"His father was never around long enough to teach him how to be a good man - but he learned anyway."

"I don't remember ever teaching you how to be a good man," Jackson stated.

"You didn't have to teach me, Dad…you just let me watch how _you_ did it."

Father and son hugged tightly and then stepped apart.

"So, you'll be back in three weeks?" Jackson asked.

"Yeah, Dad. I'll be back," Gibbs replied and nodded his head towards Tony. "If he gives you any trouble, you kick his ass - and when he's in the store, keep him away from the candy or he'll eat his weight in chocolate bars."

Gibbs started to walk towards his car when he heard Tony say in a loud voice.

"So, Jackson, you never finished telling me about the boss and Annie Reynolds playing doctor behind the woodshed."

Annoyed, Gibbs wheeled around quickly to see the younger man with his arm around Jackson's shoulders, guiding him back into the house. As Jackson began to recall the incident, Tony turned his head towards Gibbs with a huge mega-watt smile and he raised his eyebrows teasingly. Despite his irritation Gibbs couldn't help but huff out a laugh.

Tony was coming back to them, it was going to take some time, but little by little he was on his way back.

**THE END**

**-oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo—oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-oo00oo-**

**A/N:-** Thank you to all who reviewed and those who read quietly along in the background. Special thanks to those of you who reviewed each chapter and those who left unsigned reviews that I could not answer personally. I hope you enjoyed the story! L

Until next time, with every good wish, Laine


End file.
